It started with a tweet/Facebook update: "No plans for U2 [ tickets ] on Sunday, but going to see the Bunnymen do 'Ocean Rain' live on Sat. night." My wife said I was fishing for an invite to the U2 show in Pasadena, CA, but really it was just a matter of fact. I would have liked to see U2 again, but I had no assignment to review the show and no ticket. I wasn't sure I'd even want to deal with the hassles of a stadium show.

But the post did prompt a response from an old friend; Karen Johnson, who worked as a publicist for the long-defunct Private Music label during the '90s, back when I was West Coast Bureau Chief for Billboard, sent me a message saying she'd find out tomorrow if she could bring another volunteer to the U2 show, and asked if I was interested in joining her. I sent a kind of lukewarm response: "I guess it would depend on what 'volunteering' entails."

Despite my tepid response, Karen delivered some details. Volunteers--who'd be working for ONE, an advocacy organization co-founded by Bono--were to arrive by noon; late arrivals would not be allowed to participate in the event. "Some of the reasons why are sensitive, and I apologize for being vague, but you are in for a very big surprise," wrote volunteer organizer Matt Higginson. Whatever the surprise would be, it would be one heck of a long day--from noon to at least midnight. On Saturday afternoon (10/24), Karen received a confirmation giving her permission to bring me as her guest, but I was still on the fence.

At this point, I should confess that U2 is not one of my favorite bands. I do own all their albums, and I'm always interested in seeing and hearing what they'll do next. There are U2 albums and songs that I love, but others that leave me cold. At times, I find Bono a little too self-righteous. Still, I do admire and respect him for trying to use his celebrity to help out those less fortunate. I paid a quick visit to one.org, and read the mission statement: "ONE is a grassroots campaign and advocacy organization backed by more than 2 million people who are committed to the fight against extreme poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa." Certainly a noble cause, I thought. I could do my own little part in helping this campaign. I told Karen I was in.

Off I went to the Rose Bowl--or, rather, to an auxiliary parking lot, from which I'd take a shuttle bus to the venue. The buses didn't actually start running until noon, giving me a bit of anxiety that I'd get to the ONE tent late and be turned away, but when I showed up about a quarter after, Higginson, a bearded young man sporting a black and red Yankees cap, confirmed me as Karen's plus-one. He explained that we'd be signing up concertgoers for one.org's email list. I learned that the volunteers were chosen by lottery; I'm sure many fans would have paid to be part of the team I'd just lucked into.

As a pep-talk, Higginson told us that Bono had asked him how the volunteers on the tour were faring. Were they taking a prog-rock or a punk-rock approach? Higginson told Bono he didn't quite follow, so Bono explained: Prog-rockers made wildly imaginative music with all sorts of musical twists and turns, but often the melody was lost in the madness. Punk rockers took a more direct approach; they kept it simple. You could easily hear the melody and the message. In their quest to sign up concertgoers to one.org's email list, Bono wanted the volunteers to keep it simple and direct. In other words, use the punk-rock approach.

Higginson then told us about the "very big surprise" he'd mentioned earlier. Not only would we have access to watch the concert from the inner-circle pit around the stage, but the 40 ONE volunteers--as well as 44 others volunteering for Amnesty International, Free Burma!, and Greenpeace--would literally walk on stage during "Walk On," as part of a tribute to Burmese leader Aung San Suu Kyi. The Nobel Peace Price Laureate won the 1990 Burmese elections, but the military refused to hand over power, instead ordering her under house arrest, where she has remained for 14 of the past 20 years. As part of the tribute, the volunteers would hold up masks of Suu Kyi as we circled the outer rim of the massive 360 stage. Not to out myself as an ignoramus about world issues, but prior to this experience, the only thing I knew even vaguely connected to Burma was the Boston-based post-punk act Mission of Burma, whose songs have been covered by Moby and R.E.M. Thus, ONE had already raised my consciousness about the plight of Suu Kyi, as U2 has done with the hundreds of thousands of other concertgoers around the world who've witnessed the 360 Tour. Perhaps as awareness is raised and public outrage and pressure builds, Suu Kyi will be released.

Given the somber nature of the tribute, U2 and their associates took this walk-on very seriously; so much so, we had to stage a test run in the afternoon, which allowed us to see the massive Claw stage or Space Ship stage in the light of day. Modeled after the Theme Building at Los Angeles International Airport, it looked like something that might have been envisioned by sci-fi pioneer Jules Verne. As we stood in line and waited, Karen and I shared our various U2 war stories.

After the walkthrough, we were issued laptops; actually little red Dell Netbooks sporting the Product (RED) logo, another Bono-affiliated organization that raises money to battle AIDS in Africa through a portion of the sales of (RED) branded projects. We were told we were free to wander the grounds around the Rose Bowl and sign up as many concertgoers as possible for one.org. Karen and I opted to hit the "Picnic in the Park" area, where the beer gardens and food stands were set up.

It was interesting to see the responses of those I approached. Many were familiar with ONE and signed up after my first words. Others were swayed by my mention of Bono and/or the free bracelet--either a white rubber-band bracelet, similar to the famous yellow Live Strong bands, or a black cloth version that required a bit more coordination to put on--that we gave to those who signed up. One group of tailgaters offered me a beer, which unfortunately I couldn't indulge in, since our handlers told us that they'd check our breath before we went on stage. (If anyone reeked of liquor, they would not be allowed to participate.) Others offered a cigarette--no thanks, don't smoke--and one serenaded me with an out-of-tune a cappella version of U2's "One" and offered me $5 for the bracelet, but I explained we weren't collecting money, only collecting email addresses to spread the word about the causes ONE chooses to spotlight. Others wanted no part of signing up for anything, even if it involved Bono, but all were respectful.

As the afternoon wore on and night fell, we met back at the ONE tent, folded it up and waited. We heard the Black Eyed Peas hit the stage, playing hits like "Let's Get It Started." As the BEP's pumped out "Boom Boom Pow," we were finally moved into the stadium and made our way into the pit just as erstwhile Guns N' Roses guitarist Slash was introduced to play on a Fergie-sung version of "Sweet Child O' Mine," confirming this really was a rock spectacular.

Later, when U2 took the stage, the massive stage's auxiliary bridges moved over our heads as Adam Clayton, and later Bono, posed for dramatic effect just feet above us. As I took a photo of Bono bathed in light overhead on my mobile phone, I couldn't help but think he looked Christ-like--and I'm a Jew.

Our cue to congregate for the walk-on was "Vertigo," which sent me and the other volunteers to the outer wings to line up. Finally, we were handed our Aung San Suu Kyi masks as we made our way up the stairs. It was truly a surreal experience. We were told this was a somber moment and we weren't to dance, wave to our friends, or drop our masks, but I found myself swaying to the vibrations emanating from the stage as I looked out into the massive crowd, caught up in the moment. I've been to hundreds of gigs over the years as a journalist and a fan, but I've never experienced anything like this.

When it was all over, there was a sense of relief. I was separated from Karen during the line-up and never found her again, so I stood on the back platform behind the stage with some of the other ONE volunteers and watched as they danced joyously to "One," "Where The Streets Have No Name," and "With Or Without You." Throughout the day, the volunteers had developed a sense of community and purpose. I went into this experience with no plans to write about it, having already filed a piece that surveyed various musicians and industry types with the question, "Does U2 still matter?" After my experience Sunday night, my own answer is "Yes"--if not for the music or stadium spectacle, then for Bono's attempts to make the world a little better, one person at a time.