Sunday, July 24, 2011

Singing with Bono & Sue McGleno

At 4 p.m. yesterday, I was pretty fried. I had put in an entire day standing in the direct sun while coaching youth baseball for our St Paul annual, season ending tournament.

When the championship game finished, I had just enough time to hustle home, take a shower and then head over to Minneapolis for the U2 concert.

There was all kind of speculation that for those of us with tickets, we would have to entertain some survival strategies if our evenings were going to be worthwhile.

60 000 of us had our admission tickets for 2 years. If you recall Bono had back surgery and our venue was one of the shows that was skipped, and then tacked back on to the tail end of the tour.

The 2 biggest obstacles that we'd have to face was raging thunder storms, and finding parking slots. The stadium is located in an area of our city that is gouged up so they can put in a light rail.

I on the other hand have a 3rd plight to endure that the other 59 999 attendees don't however.

I have to bring Sue McGleno, and I have to make sure she has the time of her life.

It has already been explained to Klecko that in no uncertain terms, if Bono comes skipping down the side walk and offers intentions to my wife, that she's going to kick my a** to the curb!

Sue McGleno loves Bono.

Even though I've known her for over 30 years, she can be a tough read, so when I find out that there is something she likes, I really do try my best to make that happen for her.

So a couple years ago when U2 launched this spectacular 360 degrees tour, I surprised my little princess by getting us tix for the show in Vegas.

To make a long story short, we traveled across America, drove out into the desert, and witnessed this ambitious gala......but Sue McGleno had the flu.

She tried to enjoy it, but she was really sick, and for the remainder of our time in Sin City, my love interest simply laid in bed.

Oh, just a brief digression, we were staying at the Luxor right? That hotel shaped like Pharaohs pyramid.

While Sue McGleno slept, I mostly sat by the pool reading and soaking in the sun.

So I'm reclined in my lawn chair, and there is another empty lawn chair, maybe 3 feet in front of me, but it is not lined in the same position as mine. It is turned the other way, basically forming the letter "T".

This 24-27ish chick comes and floats down onto this lawn chair and O-M-G was she a masterpiece. Just when she was finishing applying her 47th coat of baby oil across her Amish white skin, a dumpy looking slob came trouncing across the pool deck.

PLOP-PLOP-PLOP-PLOP.........went dudes flip flops.

Now don't get me wrong, I am sure the guy was swell lol, all I'm saying is this spectacular looking woman, well she was borderline goddess. I so would have killed for her, but this guy was tubby.

Not 45-55 year old tubby guy who goes bowling, but tubby 25 year old tubby guy who was born into money and plays video games while collecting a paycheck from his ancestors company....well that's my guess anyway.

Dude took off his shirt and shared with all of us a belly that reminded me of a pregnant bullhead, but maybe even 3 shade whiter.

Hot chick doesn't flinch, her nose is buried busily in some magazine that offers unique items that you can purchase if you are willing to absorb an inflated price tag.

Now Lumpy dude open his back pack and he slides out a bag of Cheeto's, after carefully opening the bag......

CHOMP-------CHOMP--------CHOMP, the guy seemed as if he wanted to punish each Puff like it was personal or something.

To my right is some cat, he's with some chick, the 2 of them looked like they were from Jersey.

I notice this guy is watching Lumpy as well.

So me and Jersey dude start communicating with nothing other that "Regular Guy" facial expressions.

I start off by looking at the chick, then Jersey dude and give him a glare which didn't need to be decoded. It was the "Holy God, I'm sure that dude has cash, but really? No way, this chick is 6 levels out of his league.

Now both of us laugh.

Then after like, oh 8-12 minutes of Lumpy's chomping, Jersey dude pulls a dollar out of his wallet which was cleverly hid under a beach towel.

Jersey boy then pantomimes that when lumping was done eating his mid morning snack that he would insist on taking the time to lick/suck all the orange residue off his fingers, 1 digit at a time.

I accepted the bet, and I swear to Caesar, not 3 minutes passed before our civilized subject point, slurped every last morsel of Cheetos's goo off his fingers.

I gave the guy 2 bucks.

Like I said I digress, so back to yesterday, it's time to leave for the concert, and as we are walking out the door, I said to Sue McGleno....

"Go get your rain Jacket. It is going to storm all night."

Now Sue McGleno pauses, I know she still doesn't have any rain gear.

Now I'm pissed off because the weather peeps have repeated for 3 days that all 60 000 concert goers needed to break out poncho's because we weren't going to experience rain, but a driving rain.

"I figured I would get one at Walgreen's." quipped my bride.

But I knew what that meant, we'd step into the store, be told they don't carry rain jackets, and she would throw down puppy dog eyes until I gave her mine.

Sure there would be some obligatory protest on her part where she tells me to keep it and assuring me she'll be fine, but at the end, she would be dry, and whoever stood behind the baker at the U2 show would go home and tell people the following morning how some big Shrek looking dude in front of them blocked their sight, and all they could see was a huge monkey tattoo that was bleeding through a soggy T-shirt.

It can drive me nuts, I do try to plan my life. I often times am guilty of trying to plan your life as well.

So go figure that I end up spending the majority of my life with a woman who is the exact opposite.

Not better, not worse. It's just hard for our views to connect because we live our lives on different coin sides.

But it is the year of the Rabbit, and Polish Jesus be praised. Our seats were in one of the back rows of the first level of the football stadium. The Upper deck hung over and actually acted as an umbrella for us.

About 1/2 through the show, water fell from the sky at an alarming rate, You couldn't have been any wetter if you jumped in the ocean.

But you know something? People stayed, nobody wanted to leave. The thing that U2 is so-so good at, the thing that Bono really excels in is that he offers us a platform where we can think about God - Humanity - Forgiveness and Justice.

The subjects don't seem bothersome because our front man is sincere, and his message is framed with Edge's hypnotic guitar and the best rhythm section that ever lived.

Nobody on this planet has ever been better stewards of the gifts they have received than those 4 Irish rouges, and that's a fact.

When the show was finally over and everybody (except the 1% of us that had seats under the overhang)departed the stadium, I could see hope in their eyes.

Then I wondered how long it would take each one of us mob members to lose our faith, and go back to being the flawed species that we typically are lol.

I imagine some people were really touched, and therefore possibly recommitted themselves to being better in their pursuit of holiness.

I other the other hand lost Saint status within 15 minutes.

While everybody raced to get to their vehicles, so they wouldn't be pinned in by the over peoples vehicles departing, Sue McGleno instructed me that we were going to make a pit stop at Burger King.

When we get in, there is already about a million people in line, the place is understaffed, it's around 11:30 pm and when after what seemed like an eternity, Sue McGleno orders the #7 chicken fillet sandwich, but with a medium chocolate shake instead of pop.

I think I was order #457, Sue McGleno has left my side to snag a table for us, people are fighting over a bathroom key that doesn't seem to exist.

I start hearing numbers being yelled out........

"#458 - 2 cheeseburgers, onion rings and large fries. Order #462 4 large fries. Order #466 whopper junior no tomato."

I'm kinda more than annoyed, what the "H" happened to order #457?

One of the counter women (who looked like Florida, the mother on that show Good Times)senses my frustration and smiles at me.....

"Let me see your ticket hun."

When I showed it to here she laughed.......

"Oh, that's what you get for a ordering a chicken fillet, you have to wait awhile for those."

By this point there is an army standing between Sue McGleno and me, but that doesn't stop your favorite baker...

"Nice job kid, we have to wait another hour and a half because you ordered that chicken patty, brilliant!"

Sue McGleno flashes me a look that almost makes me wonder if she knew this fact, and ordered this particular meal off the menu just to jerk with me.

When I finally sat down. She confessed that she was somewhat familiar with Burger King procedure and started laughing.

But within moments, my little angels smile faded away. Sadness began to flood her eyes. before I could ask what was wrong, she softly pounded her fist on the table and announced........

"Boo, this is maybe the worst Burger King I've ever had."

I stopped for a moment and I could tell she was actually a little upset. It had been a long day, and the right thing for me to do would have been to shut up, but Klecko couldn't resist.......

"The worst Burger King you've ever had? Hmmmmm, I think the sorry part about that statement is then by definition, you've had some "BEST" Burger King experience as well.

Then I laughed.

Sue McGleno gave me the finger.

Polish Jesus, Bono.....I do thank you guys so very much for inventing and acting on love and mercy.

Both of you inspire me to the nth degree, but even when I'm surrounded by 60 000 harmonic souls, I can't even go 15 minutes w/o taking pot shots at me best friend at Burger King.

I ask for forgiveness, and hope that Sue McGleno had the time of her life.


  1. this might be the best paragraph i have ever read:

    Sure there would be some obligatory protest on her part where she tells me to keep it and assuring me she'll be fine, but at the end, she would be dry, and whoever stood behind the baker at the U2 show would go home and tell people the following morning how some big Shrek looking dude in front of them blocked their sight, and all they could see was a huge monkey tattoo that was bleeding through a soggy T-shirt.

  2. No kidding, I had copy and pasted the above paragraph to post in this here comment box about how great it was, only to be beaten to the punch by laurie. Klecko, this was a lot of fun to read.

  3. I would rather own Laurie Hertzel's favorite paragraph than inherit $1000's.......Swear to Polish Jesus