Please ignore the terrible grammar. I am trying to write with flow and while I do edit my work before posting, I am trying to spend less time (right now) on that technical stuff and focusing on getting the writing out. Please stick with me.
I’m in Montreal with my family. This should be enough information to explain a lot of frustration and fury. I’m joking. Sort of.
This is the first time my sisters and I have gone on a vacation together, all three of us. Those who know me know my sisters, P and K, mean the world to me and we are very close. Along with us came my brothers-in-law, S and C, and my three nephews, K, L, and Little Z. Needless to say there have been some awesome ups and some aggravating downs. But that’s family, right? You love ‘em. And you can hate ‘em.
The main reason we came down to Montreal this weekend (I write this from my hotel room) was to celebrate P’s upcoming 40th birthday. U2 and Montreal? Let’s kill two birds with one stone! We have been looking forward to this for weeks. And so has the city of Montreal. For those who don’t know, the Hippodrome (the venue U2 was playing at) holds 80,000 people. Yes, you read the correctly. 80,000 people!!!! The only other time I’ve been to a concert venue that large was when I saw Dave Matthews Band at Ralph Wilson Stadium in Buffalo in 2001. We’ve been hearing U2 played everywhere: cars, t.v, stores. There are even large banners on buses and in the subway! This city knows how to party and get revved up. Also, the city shut down the highway to deter people from driving to the concert. There is not enough parking to accommodate 80,000 people so the only way to get to the concert was le metro. Montreal transit even printed off special U2 passes!
We leave with ample time and it still takes over an hour to reach a destination just 30 minutes away; le metro stopping for approximately seven minutes at every station. It was nuts! Finally, we arrive and people look like cattle being herded; droves and droves of people obediently following one another. We get closer and closer to the venue and the energy is vibrating. You can feel the love and excitement. And then I get a closer look at the stadium…Fear slowly creeps in.
*I will interject here by saying I have a fear of unstable and smallish heights: ladders, scaffolding, etc. Very tall and stable heights are no problem: balconies, glass floor of the CN Tower, etc.
Back to the story.
I look up and I don’t feel so well. The Hippodrome is an old racetrack (at least that’s what my sister, P, said) and is a large structure made of interlocking steel piping. Imagine a high school stadium, only bigger. And scarier. Each step up the metal stairs creaks and bends. I am slowly starting to freak out. I’ve never been in a stadium like this before. We get to our seats about ten minutes before U2 comes on and my nerves are becoming shakier. I tell my sisters I’m not loving this feeling and they proceed to tell me that I will die when I’m meant to die and if I die tonight, what an awesome way to go.
*I will interject here and say that my family and I are pretty zen about death. We talk about it and are not afraid of it. My Eastern parents have everything to do with this. So them saying the things they were to me in that moment were not insensitive or glossing over my fear but just trying to calm me down and to help me gain some perspective. It was out of love, not malice.
Ok. Back to the story.
U2 comes on and starts playing their first song of the evening “Even Better Than The Real Thing” and everyone starts freaking out (in a good way) and I start freaking out even more (in a bad way). You see, this structure is meant to bend and sway. It’s actually safer this way (which I knew already and my engineer brother-in-law, S, reminded me of this morning). But try telling that to a person in the moment of fear. I didn’t know this fear was this bad until last night at the concert. It’s two minutes into the first song and there I am, perched atop a crazy bending and swaying giant scaffolding. I tell my sisters I am REALLY scared and they tell me to stand in between them, that maybe that will help. I do as they say, and while it did help a little, I begin to cry uncontrollably. I am shaking and near hyperventilation. P tells me to hold onto the railing which strangely provides comfort and fear at the same time; the railing feels strong but now I can feel every movement even more. I’m paralyzed.
K stays with me as P starts to troubleshoot my meltdown. She runs this way, she runs that way to find someone who will tell us we can go further down, all the while missing the first four songs of the set. I cry even more because now guilt is also setting in. My sisters drove ten hours to get to Montreal! (Little Z is only five months old – driving a long distance with an infant instantly adds two hours to the trip.) Finally, P comes back and tells K and I to follow her. I peel my white-knuckled fingers from around the railing and hold both my sisters’ hands as they guide me down the frightening stairs. We reach the bottom and I can breathe again. I cry some more as both sisters hug and hold me tightly, not an ounce of resentment flows in their bodies. I feel only love and protection; two things I haven’t been feeling these last couple of weeks with the whole liar situation.
P managed to find a grassy area off to the side where there were few people and an amazing view of the stage. You see, this tour is called the 360 Tour because the stage is 360 degrees and you can see Bono and the boys from all angles. We enjoyed the show from our new impromptu “seats”. The last song, “Moment of Surrender” is a solemn song and in the last sixty seconds of the song, it began to rain. It was beautiful, haunting, and symbolic. And then, just as Bono was saying his final goodbyes, the winds picked up in a swirling motion and blew up all the sand and gravel we had been standing on all around us, accompanied by torrential, horizontal rain! This all happened in a matter of two minutes, no exaggeration! I look up and see all the fans in the stands and thank every spiritual entity for blessing me with the ground. 80,000 people are now RUNNING down from the stands and thundering across the field toward le metro. I am wearing only a t-shirt and shorts and Birkenstocks. It was so incredibly unbelievable and magical that all my sisters and I could do was smile, laugh, and be grateful of our amazing luck to have this remarkable memory. It was an evening of a very low low and very high high. I am still shaking my head and smiling about it.
I am SO lucky to have such amazing sisters who drive me crazy some of the time, and love me all of the time. No matter what they are always there for me. We have our ups and downs, like any family or relationship, but when I need them most their love is steadfast and unconditional. Recently, I have seen some of the ugliest and darkest people can be (I honestly didn’t think it could exist so nonchalantly – I’m talking about the liar here) and am renewed in my faith in humankind and in true love. True love, romantic or familial, always cares for you, never intentionally hurts you.
Really, all I’m trying to say is my sisters are the bomb diggity. And I’m so lucky.
