Missing Bono: Leave it behind

I know I’m getting on everyone’s nerves because I can’t stop talking about U2, but I don’t care. Time is not linear when it comes to my obsession.

Plus, it’s going to take a few years to get over the fact that Bono came to Culpeper and I wasn’t here because I had taken off for his show in Charlottesville. Then again, if I had been in Culpeper the day he lunched at the Hazel River Inn and didn’t hear about it until after, I would have never recovered.

Last weekend, I got lost in my all-time favorite group that happens to be from Ireland. My infatuation with the transcendent band — the man — delved so deep that I completely checked out from anything unrelated. E-mails went unanswered, phone calls unreturned, and I didn’t check my work Web site once in the five days I took off to prepare for the C’ville concert.

Before and after the Thursday night show, it was all U2 and only U2, and I had plenty of company in my mania, as all seven of my Irish siblings are nuts about the band too — I know I’m not alone. Of the seven, six siblings made it to Scott Stadium along with my husband, numerous friends and me.

My group arrived in town way early, around 4 p.m., and headed to the Corner for some grub.

“You going to the U2 concert?” my friend asked everyone who passed us, and almost everyone was. Wahoo!

Around that very same time up the road in gentle Culpeper, my home away from home for nearly a decade, Bono was walking out onto a sunburst East Davis Street after eating some salad and stuff at the Hazel River Inn Restaurant.

I read about it on page A2 in the Star-Exponent the day I returned from my U2 weekend.

What the fuh-nizzle, my sister lamented. Sneaky, sneaky rock idol comes to this small town when his top local fan is away.

I’m breathing, though.

Here’s how I rationalize my one missed chance to meet Bono: I could not have seen U2 in concert that night if had I worked that day. It was one or the other. Man, a tough choice, I know, although there was no guarantee that I would have found out about his unannounced venture into Culpeper.

I think I might have sensed it. Water under the bridge.

Note to the downtown community: The next time Bono comes to town, please, please call me at 825-0771 ext. 101 or send an e-mail to .

I promise I won’t be pushy.

But getting back to the Piedmont show, U2’s first, I’d been planning on it since March and got my tickets the second they went on sale back in April. Neurotic as ever about the band and its music, I was so sure I would get shut out that it didn’t actually sink in that I was going to get to see U2 in Charlottesville until a few weeks ago.

It was my fourth time seeing the group, which, in spite of its global fame, still seems accessible to the average Joe or Jane. The three other times were at Giants Stadium and in D.C.
U2 Charlottesville felt much more personal.

Amazingly and somewhat shamefully, it was not a sellout, and so my husband and I were able to scoot over after the opening act for a much better seat. The claw was nice, but not if you
were sitting behind it like we originally were. I danced the whole time, and the show was so good U2 won over my husband.

Down on the field, my one brother, who had a lawn seat ticket, was able to join my other brother, who was right up on the stage. No questions asked. That’s how chill it was.

I’m still running toward the day Bono and I will sit down for an interview, and maybe I’ll reach that light in some space and time. Until then, my obsession walks on.