A couple of years back, a newspaper in the Philippines held a contest and the prize was this cool mp3 player. To qualify for the contest, you had to, I think, tell them what you would do with the player if you win it. Here was my entry:
DISMANTLING AN ATOMIC BOMB
(My fictional-but-what-I-hope-to-God-would-someday-be-true encounter with U2)
I am in a small, rundown airport somewhere in the Caribbean. All flights in and out of the small island have been cancelled due to a sudden storm. Because of the heavy rain, going back to the cottage where I stayed at was out of the question. I am stuck in the airport. Resigned to my fate, I decided to make the most of the long wait ahead of me by listening to the U2 songs I've just stored in my Samsung YP-T8. At least the chairs here in the VIP lounge are softer, I thought as I looked around the bare room empty of people except for myself and two or three employees. "Making friends with the pilot really does pay," I muttered softly to myself.
Sitting on one of the aforementioned chairs, I take out my YP-T8, and, soon enough find myself unaware of my surroundings and moving my head and my feet to the songs of the Irish lads. While quietly singing along to "Stuck in the moment you can't get out" (how very appropriate, I thought) I feel someone tapping my shoulders. Irritated at having had my "moment" with U2 interrupted I, being the polite Pinoy that I am, nevertheless turned my head to ask that person what he/she wanted. The first thing I saw was the piercing blue eyes whose intensity cannot be veiled by the lightly-tinted sunglasses the eyes' owner wore. Then his entire being and that of the three other people seated near him came into view. What I saw almost made my eyes pop out of my head. Sitting a feet away from me are Bono, the Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr., collectively known as the greatest rock band in the world, U2. It took every ounce of will power I had to stop myself from going down on my knees, raising my hands to the heavens and shouting "halleluiah."
"Hello, miss. My name is Bono,” he tells me while extending his arm for a handshake.
I wanted to say, “as if there’s anyone in the world who doesn’t know”, but instead I take the offered hand and tell him my name (or maybe I just uttered unintelligible sounds, I don’t remember.)
“I wonder if you could settle an argument for us," Bono asks, Irish brogue and all, "do you know if this island was a British or a French colony? We're having a bloody time remembering it."
If somebody asked me that an hour or so ago, I would have been able to answer them easily. But after being subjected to the shock of finding four of the greatest rock gods in the world seated in front of me, my mind went blank. Unable to remember anything other than the fact that I am breathing the same air as U2, I decided to look-up what he was asking for on the "Carribean Traveler's Guide" e-book stored in my YP-T8. After consulting my e-book and telling them the answer, the Edge, sited one row behind Bono, exclaimed "hah!" in that quiet manner of his and broke out into a smug little smile.
"The bastard's right again," declares the drummer, Larry Mullen, good-naturedly. Sitting one row in front of the best-looking drummer in the world, I could do nothing else but smile at the comment.
"You can store e-books in your mp3 player?” Bono, his curiosity piqued by the YP-T8 I was holding in my hand, suddenly asks.
"Yeah," I croaked. Knowing how he loved reading, I then proceeded to show him the different e-books I had stored in my nifty little gadget as the other rock gods looked on. Obviously impressed, Bono remarks, "that's pretty cool."
"So I guess a big U2 fan like myself can be forgiven for buying this instead of the U2 iPod, huh?" I ask him with a smile.
"That depends," Bono answers as he leans back on his chair, smiling, "did you rip the songs stored there illegally from the internet?"
"No! Everything is 100% legal, sir. I copied all of these from original U2 CDs. Even the video clips here were recorded from original U2 DVDs. I'm too much of a fan to buy pirated stuff, sir” I tell him. Of course I download all of my non-U2 mp3s and video clips off the internet, but I thought it would be wise to just keep quiet about that.
Bono let out a laugh over my attempt to explain. "Relax, I was just teasing you. And don't call me "sir", titles are for the English" he said with a grin.
"Wait, so that's an e-book reader and mp3 and video clip player?” the Edge asks me, sounding excited.
I nod my head, a bit surprised by the guitar player's sudden, animated interjection.
"You have to excuse Edge a bit, miss. He finds sexual pleasure in tinkering with high-tech gadgets," says Adam Clayton, speaking for the first time.
While Larry Mullen and Bono laugh at this, the Edge, apparently not hearing the wisecrack, leans towards me and asks if he could see some clips. Being a mere mortal, I was more than happy to oblige. I scroll through the different video clips of U2's live performances and music videos that I had, deciding over which one to play and finally settles on their 1985 Live Aid performance. After the clip started playing, I hand the YP-T8 over to the guitar player, who eagerly takes it. He leans back on his chair and looks at the 1.8" screen with what looks to me like a mixture of amazement, pure joy, ecstasy and nostalgia. Larry Mullen Jr., who is seated beside the Edge and is also watching the clip, exclaims with a grin, "Our haircuts looked like crap."
"At least they looked better than David Bowie's," the Edge offers as some sort of consolation.
We all gave out a little laugh at that comment.
While the two engross themselves in my YP-T8, I turn to my side and ask Bono something that, because of all the excitement (mine, that is), just dawned on me--what are they doing here?
The most influential rocker in the world was kind enough to explain. "We shot a music video in a nearby island. After finishing we decided to come out here to relax and, if we get lucky, write some songs."
Ah, I thought, checking to see if their muse responds well to warm weather.
"Which we didn't," Adam Clayton remarks while furiously pushing the buttons of the PSP he is playing with, "we were either swimming in sea water or in alcohol."
"We never even got to picking up the guitar," Bono adds laughingly.
"Hey! Bring it back to the other picture." I heard Larry Mullen exclaim. I look behind me to where he and the Edge were sitting to see what suddenly got him excited.
"I've been looking around for this Harley model for years. I've never actually seen one." He was holding the YP-T8 close to his face now. He then leans forward to me to ask if I actually took the picture.
I tell him yes, it belongs to the owner of the cottage I stayed at.
"How was the bike's condition? Does it still run well?" he asks, still holding my YP-T8 and looking at the picture.
"Yeah. The owner takes really good care of it since his father left it to him when he died. I have more pictures of the bike in my camera. I haven’t gotten around to transferring them to my mp3 player yet" I tell him while rummaging for the said device on my backpack. After finding the camera, I hand it to him and he hands the YP-T8 back to me.
"Next to his drums, his bikes are his most prized possession," Bono tells me of his drummer friend.
"Did he really ride a bike from one concert venue to another during the European leg of your Zooropia tour?" I ask the other band members.
"Yes, he clocked in at 10,000 miles," answers the member dubbed by Bono as the group's scientist for his love of data, the Edge.
"He's a regular Irish Che Guevarra," jokes Bono.
"Fucking batteries!"
It’s Adam Clayton. Apparently, the batteries of the PSP he's been playing with in a furious pace for the past hour just ran out.
"Now what the bloody hell am I supposed to do in the next two hours?" he asks, exasperated with his luck.
"My YP-T8 has some pretty cool games, you can play with it if you want" I offered.
"Your what?" he asks.
I hold up my hand for him to see my YP-T8.
"Oh. For a moment there I thought you were saying something obscene,” he says grinning. "What games do you have?"
"Well, I like the darts game."
He raised his eyebrows at me in question.
"Oh. Well, what you do is hold the YP-T8 in your hand like you're holding a real dart, then make throwing motions," I tell him. I then hand him the device.
Ten minutes later, he was playing virtual darts like a pro. He looked awkward at first, probably a bit afraid of looking silly; but then he must have remembered that he was the bassist of one of the greatest, coolest and most powerful rock band of all time, and thought "who would think that I'm silly?"
And because boys, whatever their age are, never say no to a little friendly competition, the four musicians soon find themselves taunting, jeering and cheering each other as they engage themselves in a little game of virtual darts.
As I watch the four rock gods cuss at the bad shots they throw and whoop at every bull's eye, I couldn't help but look up to heaven and ask "Dear God, what did I ever do to deserve this kindness?"
---THE END"---
The beautiful Mayon Volcano
