I love concerts. By that I mean I went to at least ten within the past year, have seen several of my favorite artists multiple times, and know all of the underground and free venues to see live shows in my hometown. Along with attending concerts, I take every opportunity I can to take pictures with any performer at the concerts I see. I’ve taken pictures with numberous opening acts from Tor Miller to the Young Rising Sons to Jamie Lawson. No matter how big or small the artist is, I try to get a picture because in 10 years, you never know how big they could be. Getting pictures with even these up and coming artists has taken hours or standing in the cold late at night after a show and the awkward, “Excuse me, could I get a picture?” as they attempt to part from the crowds of fans trying to get pictures. However, because of this, I have tens of pictures with musicians and a box full of signed tickets to remember the nights. One of these meetings stands out above the rest. It is the night that I met my idol.
After a bad dinner that got my two friends and I into the concert venue early, we sprinted to get as close to the front as we could. We ended up about three rows back from center stage. We faired pretty well keeping our spots until a couple pushed in front of us. We asked them, very politely if they could move with no response. A mom who was standing next to us then yelled at them after she saw what they did and they politely moved (thank you to our savior!). After an hour waiting in the packed venue in the summer heat, the opening act , Tor Miller, came on stage. I knew some of his songs from listening to them at work earlier that day, but for the most part no one sang along. After a 45 minute show, Tor Miller left the stage. For another hour we waited as the stage was setup for the headliner. Finally, the lights dimmed, girls screamed, and out from a cloud of smoke came James Bay. The show lasted for two hours, but it felt like minutes. We waited until everyone else left the venue, my friends and I took a picture in front of the stage and then were forced to leave. We purchased t-shirts and walked out of the venue debating whether or not we should wait outside of the stage door for the band to come out. We decided we’d stay for an hour and no more.
As midnight became 1am, the door to the stage opened and out walked Tor Miller and James Bay’s band. This was one of the first experiences I had meeting musicians, so as I approached Tor I was petrified. I got a picture, but it was too dark to make out our faces, so I had to ask for another one. By that point, it had been over an hour and a half and it was nearly 2 am. One of my friends left, but I had waited too long to go home. At any moment James Bay could walk out those doors and my life could be changed. After another half hour, Tor Miller, James Bay’s band, and his manager walked out. By this time, the crowd had shrunk to ten people and most people were talking of leaving. Determined to meet James Bay, I eavesdropped on the band. There was talks of upcoming shows, the tour bus, and the grimy hotel they had stayed in the night before, but one thing stood out. They were meeting a “Him” at a pizza place. Assuming that the Him was in fact James Bay and not an other worldly power, I pulled my friend away from the crowd and told her the plan. We both knew the area very well and knew that there was a fairly well known pizza restaurant a few blocks away. We would walk casually down to the restaurant and grab a slice for her and a Sprite for me, our typical post-concert cravings. It was the perfect plan. If James Bay was there we wouldn’t look like we were stalking him (though we clearly were) and if he wasn’t we still had a reason to go.
The pizza place had a glass paneled door, so, when I looked in, I could see not only James Bay clearly, but also had the great experience of making eye contact with and then being laughed at by Tor Miller. I pulled my friend down past the door so that we could reconvene, calm our nerves and cement our plan. We would walk in, get in line, and then find a table as near to them as we could without looking suspicious. Given that we were two teenage girls, both carrying concert tees who had just taken pictures with everyone but James Bay, we looked suspicious and there really was no way to avoid it. We walked in and stood behind Tor Miller. That was apparently not the line, so he turned around and pointed us in the direction of the back of the line. After about five minutes we saw James and company leaving the restaurant. Afraid that we would lose our one chance to meet him, my friend yelled “JAMES” to get his attention. We left the line and had Tor Miller take a picture of all of us. They all laughed at our stalking abilities and thanked us for attending the show. I was so caught up in what was going on I could not say anything except “Do you want your pizza in the picture?” as I covered the slice in James Bay’s hand with my body. As he left the pizza place, my friend and I exchanged eye contact, both regretting not getting solo pictures with him. We had come this far, and were not going home without them. We then left the restaurant without her pizza and my Sprite and ran after him down the street. By this time, I had regained my sanity and was able to tell him what a great job he had done and thank him for the picture and carry out a short but relatively normal conversation. He then ran up to walk with the rest of his band to return to the small crowd still gathered at the venue. Awestruck, my friend and I followed, had him sign my phone and her ticket and left.
Once a few blocks away, we screamed. We just screamed and jumped. We got in the car and recounted the entire story to her mom and then everyone else who asked us about the concert in the following weeks. I still send and regularly receive a “Remember when we met James Bay?” text. It has become a distant memory, but one which I said “I could die happily now” immediately after. I have since come to realize that, although he was nominated for three Grammys, has a hugely popular record, and has toured globally, my excitement in meeting him did not do anything to greatly impact my life. Yes, I met my idol. Yes, I have a picture with a huge musician. Yes, it was amazing. And yes, it is one of my most treasured memories, but he was a normal guy, we had a normal conversation and then we went about our days.
