Given the mysterious ways of the debacle that is Spiderman on Broadway, I guess we should desire that Bono, the Edge, and the U2 gang have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year's Day. However, with thousands stranded at European airports this holiday season, thinking they are stuck in a moment you can't get out of, it somehow seems unfair that the Irish supergroup can walk on to a closed luxury hotel at the snap of their fingers. Not to mention that the group did so this week upon being stranded at Shannon Airport in Ireland. You mean Bono and his pop band couldn't find at least one friend, family member or fan with whom to stay during this sort of homecoming? I mean, that's like the Virgin Mary being turned away at the Inn of the Immaculate Conception. The thought leaves me verklempt with vertigo.
Achtung, baby. Here's the tale, courtesy of Dromoland Castle's PR firm:
Even the royalty of rock n’ roll can’t fly above the terrible weather plaguing Europe, it seems. No sleeping on the floor of the airport lounge for U2, though. When their plane was diverted to Shannon International Airport recently on return from a five-week tour in Australia, Bono declared that the destination was acceptable ... if the group could stay at Dromoland Castle, County Clare’s five-star luxury resort. Only a celebrity of Bono’s stature could dictate such a thing, of course, and only a bespoke Irish castle hotel could rise to the occasion. One of Ireland’s finest, Dromoland is a secluded retreat located just 7.5 miles from Shannon Airport. The resort was closed for refurbishment, (but) unfazed by Bono’s decree, Mark Nolan, the Managing Director of The Dromoland Collection, stepped into service, finding a room at the inn for the band. In the true spirit of the holidays, he even managed to arrange a festive Irish dinner for his guests -- in the form of the huge Shepherd’s Pie his wife Maria had put up for the family’s holiday.
Well, isn't that the sweetest thing? Despite the weather, U2 had a beautiful day, thanks to Mark and Maria. Just goes to show that sometimes you can't make it on your own. Meanwhile, back at Shannon and Berlin's Zoo Station or other transportation hubs in winter-weather-weary Zooropa, a pride of stateless wanderers still haven't found what they're looking for and are planning to spend Sunday, bloody Sunday in waiting areas, left to imbibe on Xanax and wine and other miracle drugs. So cruel. Mercy and Mofo. I guess some days are better than others.
To check on the italics, note this U2 song and album list. And yes, I know, I left out Where the Streets Have No Name. If you can find a place to fit it in, rise up and love, rescue me. And while you're at it, do you know how to dismantle an atomic bomb?