Tuesday, February 15, 2011

No matter what, I will not lick Bono.

So I went to the Calabash in Soweto to go watch a small Irish rock band play to about 100,000 people and I was struck by the fact that some people spent good money to come and get completely blitzed on Heineken long before the concert started. Oh, the poor girl whom we all had to clamber over as she slumped in the middle of the walk way contemplating whether she should throw up or die. The old man who dropped his beer can down the ramp and stumbled after the damn cylinder. Oh, let's not forget the girl who passed out behind us, right onto one of our own. Then there were the two low jean wearing, sideways baseball cap with fat bills wearing, gold chains slinging, carat"ed" ears adorned and clearly clueless about this kind of music. They finally gave up halfway and sauntered off. Oh and the poor guys who'd brought their girlfriends along as a pre-valentine trip I suppose. And they too dozed off as their girls squealed and jumped when the only three songs they knew boomed all around the stadium.

Why bother? Just to say you saw U2? Eh, too each his own.

Ok, I'm off to become an activist. And I must remember not to piddle my pants this time when I meet him.

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