You have to read this story.

I know my page says Happy Thanksgiving. I like it, so, just get over it ok? And we are 11 days away from staring thanksgiving down anyway, so, why not.



When I was in college. . (I was a wild one in college) a few of my girlfriends and hopped in my White Acura Integra (that had the cool fin on the back. . it was my dream. . I loved that car) and we drove to Vegas.



We had a hot date with BONO.



We had bought our tickets on-line (or was it in-line? I can't remember) and we were pumped... as pumped as 5 or 6 college girls on the way to scream their heads off at a concert might be. I don't remember where we stopped. I don't remember where we ate. I don't remember much of anything. Except, when we got there, we were like wild animals. Pulsing with wild anxiety and excitement. (Was that too much of an explanation? I'll think about that one some more.)



Anywho. We found some friends at the concert. They were in the nose bleed section. We were on the floor. At first, we had no idea WHERE our tickets were. We had to ask several people until we could figure it out, and then we were told they were on the floor. . . 11 rows back from the front. We were screaming. . shouting and clutching each other. . jumping up and down and telling our friends our great stroke of luck.



Just as we were doing so, a guy with a U2 t-shirt on told us to give him our tickets. He insisted. We rejected him and said we would NEVER give up our great seats. He smiled at us. . me, my friends, and my friends with the nose bleed seats and said, "I'll give you front row seats."



I guess Bono wanted to stock the stage with some screaming chicks. We were just the girls he was looking for. We grabbed our new seats and headed down with our friends. To be honest, the 11 row seats were better and next to the cat walk. Bono knows how to work a cat walk my friends. He does. Yes. He. Does.

Photo courtesy of some site I just snagged it off of. (Zimbio)

I don't even remember the opening act. I didn't care. Public Enemy maybe? I know. I just wanted to see Bono. The concert was amazing. Seriously. Amazing. I hadn't been to many concerts, but you don't have to stretch your imagination too far to realize U2 is going to put on an awesome show.



Bono walked the cat walk SEVERAL times. I finally climbed the fence. Realizing that my freakishly long arms could maybe grab his pant leg. I am not sure what I would have done with it after that but, I wasn't thinking that far ahead. Here he comes... down the cat walk. . . He picks up someones shoe... he is walking toward me. . REACH... REACH... REACH!!!!!



Bono handed me a shoe.



Who's shoe?



I don't know.



I don't care.



I have a shoe bequeathed to me by Bono. It is a miracle. (ok, maybe that is going too far)



Of course there was a major frenzy in the stands where I was. My friends causing the most of it. A few seconds later security approached me. . .



"You have to give us the shoe."



me: NO!



"It doesn't belong to you"



me: SO!?



"The girl wants it back"



me: I don't care! She chucked it up there!!!!



"Give us the shoe"



They were big. I am Mormon. I gave them the shoe.



U2 is going to be in concert here tonight. I bought tickets. . .





6 months ago





without talking to, or asking my husband.



We have never been to a concert together. . . Married 9 years. I know! 6 months ago, when I bought them, I figured we would be far enough past all of our drama to celebrate. I was close. We still have a lot of drama, but I want to celebrate anyway.



He has no idea.



I wrote this two hours ago.



I am driving to his work right now.



He. Has. No. Idea.