My Battle Scar
The hours at the castle went a lot faster once the opening acts began.
There was Kelis, whose “Milkshake” brought all the boys in the yard; Relish, who was just okay; and JJ72, who just made noise.
As Coldplay was taking the stage, my prayers were answered and I was granted a coveted wristband. The gentleman who gave it to me told me to protect my wrist with my other hand so no one could rip it off as I made my way to the Heart. This was no easy feat.
With sweat dripping, I ran to a spot on The Edge’s side, threw my jacket down and sat on the ground, facing the crowd.
Why not face Coldplay?
1) I needed to see what I was up against once darkness fell.
2) Chris Martin isn’t exactly attractive, anyway.
It was then that it really hit me—I was up against the railing in a crowd of 80,000 people. One rush of the stage and I would likely lose my life.
At age 25, when this show occurred, I was still very petite. And though I took random dance classes (Hip-Hop and Riverdance, for example), and walked two miles to my bus stop every day, I still wasn’t very strong.
I tried to put that out of my mind as the Red Hot Chili Peppers took the stage. I’d liked them for years, but never seen them live, so this was a great initiation.
By then the sun was absolutely blazing down on us and my black tank top was absorbing heat at a record rate. The crowd was also closing in, knowing that the Peppers were the last act before U2 would take the stage. I felt like I could faint from the heat, the lack of food and water, and the excitement.
Those of us keeping an eye on the sides of the stage were treated to Iggy Pop and Woody Harrelson peeking out to wave hello, and various familiar U2 crew faces could also be seen.
My legs were numb by the time U2 actually did come on, but the opener of “Elevation” (where all of us in the audience ‘pogo’ in time with Bono) had me jumping along with everyone.
I had one hand on my disposable camera and another on the pouch around my neck that contained my ID. I would only change up this position when I needed to grab the railing and brace myself to stop from getting crushed.
The rest of the night was surreal. It was almost like the heavens turned off the lights on cue after Bono sang the last notes of “Beautiful Day.” Once it got dark, the music got more magical and the crowd got more dangerous.
The security team would periodically hose us down. I was grateful for those moments because they kept the rowdies back, and I got a drink. Standing for 13 hours after having a light breakfast, being rained on, then blistering in the sun doesn’t make for the best physical condition. But hey, I was young—and this was my first European rock concert.
I had many spine-tingling sparks of happiness throughout the set, but little can compare to hearing “Sunday Bloody Sunday” performed on hallowed Irish ground.
The crowd understandably went nuts and the good couldn’t be separated from the bad. When the drunks began shoving, things got out of control and I got smashed up against the railing. The people next to me said they heard the crack of my rib; I remember having the wind knocked out of me, blacking out and being revived by the security guards who were trying to lift me out. I quickly responded that I had more film left on my camera and I didn’t want to be carried out.
“Bloody Americans,” they said.
I had trouble breathing from there on out, but somehow I managed to last the rest of the show. The crowd got better too, and I was given more space after folks realized I was injured.
Once the show ended (with a beautiful fireworks display set to “The Unforgettable Fire”, in honor of the album they recorded inside that same castle), I got taped up by the first aid folks and missed my shuttle back to Dublin.
I had to walk the Irish countryside for at least an hour until I found another group that would take pity on me and give me a ride back to the city. After all, I’d spent my money on a T-shirt and had no other way back.
When I finally arrived at my hotel, I was so exhausted I’m not sure I even took all my clothes off to shower. I just knew that I felt too gross to sleep without getting some soap involved.
I collapsed into bed with a completely wet head and slept the most sound sleep I think I’ve ever slept. My body had shut down.
Sweet euphoria.