We’d been in line since 10 a.m., sitting on concrete and quaffing lukewarm water from plastic bottles. It felt like we’d been there for two days, though it was only 1 p.m. The doors of the Staples Center wouldn’t open until 6 p.m., so we weren’t even halfway home. But it was worth it, and not just because we were waiting to see U2.
Six months earlier, my wife Shelley gave birth to quadruplets. The first month was filled with joy and celebration because they were all healthy and thriving ... and because they were still sleeping at the hospital. After they came home, there was still plenty of joy, but it came packaged with sleep deprivation, constant work, screaming infants, and the gradual collapse of our bodies and minds. At home, every day was nonstop chaos, so sitting on a sidewalk for eight hours chatting, reading, and snacking wasn’t so bad.
We had general admission tickets for the floor. The farther up we were in line, the closer we would be to a stage. But U2 added a twist that made things interesting. About five percent of the people with general admission tickets would be randomly selected to enter “the ellipse.” It was an area in front of the stage enclosed by a circular ramp. People lucky enough to be in this little corral would have the best seats in the house. The band, especially Bono, spent a lot of time running around the platform encircling the ellipse. Anyone inside would be literally in the middle of the concert.
The opportunity to get in to the ellipse filled me with pleasant anticipation, because I knew we were going to get in. I had no inside connections and I hadn’t bought anything special on ebay. Nobody told me we were going to get into the ellipse—I just knew. More specifically, I knew that Shelley held the golden ticket that would get us both into the ellipse. We’d been through a lot in the past six months, but she’d suffered most. Between a painful and dangerous pregnancy and countless nights without sleep, Shelley was due for a lucky break. This wouldn’t be luck, however; it would be God.
Shelley and I met at a U2 concert. We had our first kiss after another U2 concert. We spent the first day of our honeymoon at a U2 concert where Bono grabbed a sign we were holding up and ran around the stage with it. Not to deify Bono more than everyone already does, but there is a pretty clear line of God touching our relationship via U2 concerts. It seems to be his favorite way to surprise us with joy. I was confident that it was about to happen again.
This feeling of certainty was unusual for me. I don’t get premonitions, I’m not very intuitive, and I’m not one of those Christians who runs around “prophesying.” I didn’t hear a voice or see writing on the wall. I just knew. My heart told me that God wanted us to have fun. He wanted to see us jump up and down and go crazy. He wanted to give us something to restore our strength and make us feel light as air. God didn’t tell me in a dream that Shelley’s ticket would get us into the ellipse. I just had a deep sense that this was something he wanted.
When the doors finally opened, U2 fans stampeded like mad cattle. Grown men and women with executive jobs cursed and threw elbows as they jostled for position. Security guards barked commands until order was restored, and people began moving slowly toward the gates.
After a few minutes, we could see the point of no return. A woman with a laptop was scanning tickets. Occasionally, the screen of her computer went red and flashed the word “ELLIPSE.” But most of the time it didn’t.
