U2 at Cowboys Stadium, Part I

It's last Friday night; I'm sitting on my couch, reading a book turning more and more bizarre; and a friend calls with an out-of-the-blue: two extra tickets to the U2 concert at Cowboys Stadium. Now it's Monday morning, and my alarm's making a proclamation: 4:30 a.m. In spite of the hour, I am prepared—well, as prepared as one can be with a 4 a.m. frame of mind. See, this ungodly gong has gone off because my friends with the extra tickets have invited my wife and I along on their mad-mission: getting into the "inner circle" of the U2 stage by getting in line while it's still dark out. Now, it's just after 6 a.m., and in spite of my sleep-deprived stupor, I am in line for a U2 concert. A weekend that had originally held all the promise of a book and some drizzle has now evolved into a four-day holiday, culminating in a date on a "Space Ship" with one of the world's most famous musical acts.

We arrive in line and discover an officially unofficial, fan-initiated tracking system that is in place to manage the day ahead of us. This plan consists of a sharpie pen and some scratch paper. I am the 110th fan in line. In spite of such rudimentary materials, the system works wonders. For the simple fact that a plan is in place, everyone feels at ease. We no longer have to live in the uncertainty of whether our early arrival is going to be rewarded or not. We have a spot. Of course there will be people who try to cut, but we have been instructed to get to know the people around us. This way we can identify the invaders when they arrive. Even better, as soon as we assume our spot, we can feel an atmosphere of solidarity around us. We're in this together. Carry each other.

Though we would not hear a note of live music until 14 hours later, in this line there was never a dull moment. Fourth in line was "Tattoo Dan," a category manager at a Nike store in New York, who has been attending U2 concerts regularly since 1987 and has been invited on stage multiple times. Just behind us in line was a husband and wife from Australia, who referred to lining up before the show as "cue-ing"; on the current tour, they have already seen shows in California and Arizona, and eagerly anticipate the next leg of the tour, when U2 comes to the outback.

These fans were not only interesting but also affable. In my 27 years of life, in which I have now attended a meager 17 pop music concerts, I have never encountered such a civil set of fans. Few attempted to sneak a closer spot (though a few early-risers held spots for their spouses, who showed up after sleeping in). Few late-arrivers expressed discontent over their spot. When we began to receive wristbands to confirm our status—literally, the last minute before admittance—I saw no one trying to move up in the line. Even as we began our endless descent to the floor of the stadium, few ran to get ahead. A spirit of common grace seemed to have descended upon us all. As Bono would surely have put it, love had come to town. On the floor in the moments that follow, this spirit will prove concert-saving.

Now it's nearly 5 p.m., and we're finally in. Minutes later, after my friends and I have found the floor, made our way into the long-awaited inner circle, and located a spot on the back rail, just right of center-stage, Event Staffers begin telling us, all 200 of us, to leave the inner ring. Organizers are admitting groups of 200, one at a time. We are the first, and now they want us to exit the area. This is no joke. You must leave. This area is not for those with blue bracelets. You must return to the general standing area. To make matters worse, approximately six police officers are at hand, ready to enforce whatever The White Shirts say. But here's the clincher: even though many of our fellow fans have occupied the enclosed part of the stage at previous shows on this very tour, Event Staff is neither listening nor explaining why.

Tempers explode. With personnel refusing to listen, what started as reasonable pleading devolves into legal threats. So, as policemen prepare to escort some off the premises, the rest of us begin to consider our options. A few run for the best remaining spots. Others begin to drift in that direction. Most of these fans, however, are die-hards. They stay put, because they know better.

After about five furious minutes, three consecutive events occur that will save the day. First, as soon as the party poopers show up, our more experienced friends all move into sitting position, making it clear that they will have to be dragged away. Second, to support those of us still standing, the fans that have chosen a spot outside the inner circle begin urging us to stay: Don't leave. Don't leave. Finally, a second set of 200 fans comes crashing into the inner area, doubling our numbers. The policemen decide to leave and Event Staff follows close behind. Their retreat means our survival, and the cheers of 400 fans cry victory. When a day in line was about to be lost, fan solidarity rallied to win the day. Now with our spot secured, all that remained was an upright wait of three hours and the concert experience of a lifetime.