Summer of 2021 slowly but surely the country was starting to regain some freedom (at that time we didn’t know yet that we were going to be locked up again for nearly another year), and what’s the first thing you do? You buy concert tickets. Any concert, it doesn’t matter as soon is not Julio Iglesias (who actually I am not even sure he is still alive considering that was my grandmother’s favourite singer and he was already of a certain age back in those days). All you want is to enjoy your regained freedom; be around people; breath on their necks; let them seat closer than 2metres from you.
And so here we are my concert pal and I wearing our concert-matching t-shirts ready to go see some bands we never in our life had thought we would go see live. Some of them probably never thought we could see them alive, considering how long those bands were around.
Whitesnake, Foreigner, Europe and Counting Crows. A real blast from the past that brought me back to my teens: first dance, first disco, first kiss and first arrest.
Now don’t let your imagination go too wild there, it was not as bad as it sounds but certainly, Europe were the soundtrack of that school trip that saw us all questioned by the German police.
Long story short some very fashion-oriented schoolmates of mine decided to try on some nice clothes at the local mall but forgot to take them off before leaving. They did look a bit chubbier when they returned to the hostel and so did their bags when loading them onto the bus to go home but we all had indulged in food and shopping. The problem was that they didn’t stop by the till after their shopping and being just a bunch of 13 years old girls and not criminal masterminds they haven’t realised there were cameras all over the place. It didn’t take much to the local police to find that clever group of Italian students and pull over our bus before we could leave the village. Guess where we spent the entire day and half of the night?!
Back now to our days and the concert, despite all our efforts, the adrenaline and the excitement we remembered from our last pre-pandemic concert was never there . Maybe it was because we were not going to see Pink Floyd, maybe it was because the stadium was not crowded and loud, or maybe it was because we were 3 years older and spent all the drive to the concert talking about how to fill our return tax: how fecking middle age middle class is that?!!!Anyway, whatever the reason , the drill and the excitement were not there. We both kind of felt it but refused to admit it and faking it at our best we approached the entrance. I
I searched all my pockets, and my concert pal, who is a control frick , is already jumping on his feet .
“Sorry, I was sure I had them… “, and I was obviously talking about the tickets,” but don’t worry, I have the email to go to the booking site,”I reassured him starting scrolling my Gmail and he relaxed, temporarely, till I fail even the third attempt to insert the password to enter the ticket master site.
Because I am a wife and he is an husband ( one of my best friends’ husband to be precise), I promptly recognised the sign of a man on the verge to explode and as quick as I could I handed him my phone so that he could reset the password and retrieve the tickets himself and eventually let us in to enjoy what it ended to be an amazing concert. Great music, nice beer but most of all that amazing forgotten feeling to be young. No actually to look young…..compare to the average audience.
To conclude, I bet you agree with me that some lesson was learnt here: First, teach your kids to watch for cameras if they will ever feel the urge to steal something, especially in Germany where the fact that you are a minor doesn’t mean absolutely anything to the police;
Second, go to old rockers concerts and you won’t feel like a pathetic soccer mum who listens to 70/80s music in her car, but you feel a damn young chick, because guaranteed you will be at least 20 years younger than everybody else there; Third, get yourself ready and sorted to avoid pissing the husband off, because it doesn’t matter if it is yours or someone else’s: a pissed husband is never fun to be around.