Birdwell ([email protected])
Tue, 24 Nov 1998 02:36:40 -0500
I want to visit San Antonio a year ago...exactly one year ago this very
minute...2.09 am...my mates and I were in IHOP out of our minds with what we
just saw. The thrills, the chills, the pure energy running through that
whole stadium.
8 hour earlier we were primping and posing in the mirror...me in my silver
vinyl pants...honestly they gave the lemon a complex, hee hee I was shiner
than the 40 foot mirror ball!!! All decked out in our shinies, blacks,
velvets, plastics...we hit downtown at 6 pm...missing the wire gathering
because we spent so much time in front of the mirror...giggling inanely
because San Antonio had decorated their light poles with little drums...we
were sorely tempted to pinch one as a souveneir. Finally the gates opened
and we found our way to our seats, unfortunatly we were all new wirelings so
we had nose blood seats thanks to ticket bastard...I'm still bitter about
that. 3eb were great...very nice entertainment, esp. with Stephen dancing
around with his tamborine...now if only Larry would do that....hee hee
little tamborine man! Then laughing knowingly when Stephen called us dirty
perverts...smirk, then on to the big show...Mission Impossible came on...it
was starting!! The thrill of Popmuzik zinged though our bodies like
electricity, Bono looking like a deranged care bear in his silk robe, then
the music began and for 2 hours our heads were floating. The screen, the
colours, the music reaching out to the far corners of the stadium (thanks
Joe, you are a genius!!) embracing everyone, the beautiful 40 foot mirror
ball lemon! Edge singing SBS, I never thought I would get to hear that
live! Screaming Please along with Bono. Blinking my eyes in the post
blindness of the WTSHNN light set up. Trying to decide whether than dancing
thing?? on the screen was a man or a woman. (Upon close inspection-a
man...distrubing.) The lemon turning the Alamodome into one huge club hall.
Letting the words of With or Without You wind itself through
me...thinking...oh man the video needs to be re-shot...it doesn't match the
power of the song (luckily I am a filmmaker, i could do it!). Then at the
end holding the binoculars hostage, grinning in demonic delight as I watched
Larry drink some water behind the drumkit as the Edge and Bono sang Walk up
Dead Man, knowing Quimby (she's the Larry lover) couldn't see him. hee hee.
I remember stumbling out to the chill night...looking backwards--the
Alamodome against the backdrop of stars, knowing U2 were out there
entertaining mobs of fans....Phisto being a closet obessive refused to join
the wild foray of fans getting autographs. Thus we ended our night at IHOP,
deleriously high on caffiene and post concert delerium...it was a good
night.
Birdwell.
Come Visit us! The Dublin Meatpackers!
http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Birdland/3110/
you can swallow, or you can spit, or you can just fucking duck!
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