GREEN, WHITE AND ORANGE

Lock up your boys and hide the key to the liquor cabinet. Denise and Sue are off to Vancouver. Five nights of what I hope is filled with grievous sin and overt debauchery. What happens on the road...........

A lovely suite at the Century Plaza will play host to the activities of two wily cougars (can you still be classified as a cougar if you're married? And I don't even own red nail polish, does that disqualify me as well?). Sue is talking about the hotel gym, running trails, aquatic centre, etc. I have told my friend to stop worrying about her cardio and start training her liver. Sue is very nervous about keeping up with me and she should be. She's telling people that I'm trying to make her live like a rock star on this vacation and she's pretty accurate with that statement. I want it all. Why not?

My best friend and I haven't traveled together since 1987. I believe there is a very real reason for this - we don't get along. After 28 years of friendship, (minus the 3 we didn't speak) you'd think we would have worked out the dynamics of this relationship. We have failed miserably. Pick a topic, situation, name it and we'll find a reason to scrap and snipe at each other. I will not go into why, (it's all her fault) but it continues to frustrate me. I get along with people. That's what I do. Call it a gift. Whatever. But I can't seem to make this work. You would think that we would know each other on a special level, shared only by lifelong best friends, and that's why we continue the relationship, but we really don't! It never ceases to astound me how little we understand each other. Things that happened when we were teenagers still get dragged out for analysis and debate, as proof that I/she has always been a (insert current insult here). But, at the end of the day, we love each other and I'm certain we'll still be verbally jousting, pecking and picking at each others souls, when we are having our afternoon prune juice on the patio of the old folk's home.

Back to the trip. U2 is the reason and highlight of this adventure. I have high hopes that the planets will line up and my 20 year dream of being up close and personal at their concert will happen. I feel a little silly about the level of hero-worhip and adoration I have for these four Irish musicians. I am a mature, grown woman who lives by a code that I am as important as everyone else, thus I refuse to star-fuck. I think that everyone, including Brad Pitt, should be grateful to meet someone as fabulous as me and should probably ask for MY autograph. However, I turn into a blushing, stammering, star-struck fool at the mere thought of an encounter with them. I don't think that it's a bad thing. We all need a little silliness in our lives.

The scalper inflated-price tickets are in hand and the general admission floor is beckoning. I WILL find my way to the stage. Early arrival, comfortable shoes and clothes, dehydration, (to avoid bathroom breaks - we are women, over 40, and we pee alot) elbow work that hasn't been seen since Gordie Howe retired, and a whole lot of determination, should be the recipe that makes this fantasy a reality. I even have my 5 foot Irish flag to entice contact with my icons. I will leave nothing to chance. 19 more sleeps.