Dear Mr. Wonderful,
Thank you for standing in the blazing Pasadena sun with me yesterday to wait in the general admission ticket entrance line for the U2 concert. Thank you for holding it together when people were squished together like sardines, stepping over ditched lawn chairs and piles of garbage, only to get to the turnstiles, receive our GA wristbands, and have our tickets show up as “refunded” when they were scanned.
Thank you for holding my hand as we navigated through thousands of people to get to Will Call to try to solve the problem. Thank you for being supportive when we found out that the friends we’d gone to the concert with not only got in, but got in to the inner circle right in front of the stage. Thank you for helping me keep it together as we had to wait 45 minutes in line, simultaneously trying to talk to StubHub customer service, to figure out whether we’d received fake tickets. Thanks for sighing with relief next to me when we found out our tickets worked.
Thanks for walking all the way around the Rose Bowl back to the floor entrance. And for waiting in another line with me to get a hotdog.
Thanks for being a trooper as people crowded in all around us on the field, the drunk ones starting fist fights with people around us. Thanks for trying to defend me when I chimed in to an argument with a sleezy, white trash intoxicated bitch, letting her know that she hadn’t gotten in line early (and therefore would not be allowed to weave her way through the crowd and get in front of us) only to get backhanded in the face by her. Thank you for smacking her arm away. Thank you for trying to bring my blood back down from a boil, and preventing me from attacking her and getting us kicked out of the show. And thank you for agreeing that I could’ve totally taken her midgety blonde ass down in a heartbeat.
Thank you for also strongarm-escorting me away from her after the show when I wanted to go beat her face in.
Thank you for trying to lift me up when Bono came over to the section of catwalk in front of us. Thank you for flashing your gorgeous dimples at me every time I turned around to look at you during the performance. Thank you for smiling, even though I know you were pretty miserable being sandwiched between hundreds of people there on the floor. Thank you for holding my hand and not telling me to simmer down when I was jumping all around and spazzing out to the music. Thank you for kissing my cheek when “In a Little While” played and reminded us both of Arezzo.
Thank you for being patient when our friends got lost after the concert and we had to wait 45 minutes for them to find the car…after carefully planning an easy-getaway parking route. Thank you for driving us all home safely even though you were tired.
But most of all, thank you for taking such incredibly awesome pictures…
I love you, my most favorite Mr. W.