AT11 o'clock yesterday morning, a tumbleweed was blowing down Dublin's O'Connell Street past the small gaggle of fans parked outside Eason's bookstore.
"What's going on here?" a disgruntled old man asked one of the five imposing bouncers blocking the shop door rather unnecessarily from the 20 or so quiet folk standing around.
On hearing that U2 were expected any minute, or at least any hour, for a book-signing, he rolled his eyes up to heaven. "No need to shut the whole shop, " he grumbled and went on his way.
As lines of barriers blocked the largely empty street and shoppers walked unconcernedly into the more exciting world of Penneys next door, one couldn't help but wonder if he was right.
Not the die-hard fans who'd been there since 8am, though. Sonia McDonald had come all the way from Australia and was at bursting point. "I had tickets to their concert in Melbourne next month, but I'm going to miss it because I'm over here, " she explained. "Now I've missed out on getting into the booksigning. I'm just hoping they'll sign some books out here too."
Since early in the morning, 250 lucky fans who had been granted wristbands via the U2 website, or won them from radio stations, had been ensconced inside the store waiting for a personal audience with the great men themselves.
Out in the cold, Thomas Trimble from Dublin was kicking himself that he didn't check his emails sooner. "There was an alert sent out about the wristbands, but I didn't get it 'til this morning, " he groaned.
David Gibson from Belfast and Daniel Hoban from Meath were more optimistic. "We're getting in there, " said Hoban, who had taken off work to be there. "We have to."
Around the corner at the shop's side entrance, a small crowd had gathered hopefully at the door.
"Excuse me!" trilled a PR woman, jauntily walking up the steps. Looks of pure hatred followed her into the shop.
Back on O'Connell Street, in the bucketing rain, there were now hundreds of wet and excited fans crushed together on tip-toe. Suddenly a scream filled the air and Bono appeared, briefly signed a few books, gave a wave and disappeared into the store with Larry, Adam and The Edge.
It was all over in 30 seconds.
Sonia McDonald got a good photo, but she wasn't planning on hanging around for more. "This weather is the limit, " she said, shivering.
Within ten minutes, it was as if nothing ever happened. "Why is Eason's closed?" complained a woman, as she walked by the quiet store.
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