Upon reading the title of this essay, it would be quite easy to dismiss it as a joke. Though largely ironic, this is a statement that occurred to me very strongly following July 29th of this year. Starting a few months prior, I distinctly remember finding out that my favorite band of all time (Radiohead) was playing Lollapalooza. Not long after, while out to dinner with a friend, I checked my phone to discover that by some impossible luck, I had won two, four day passes to the festival. Though I don’t take pride in the fact that I’m a happy crier, I look back fondly on the moment I burst into tears in the middle of public.
Returning to the date just over two weeks ago, I had my expectations set high on this being the greatest day of my life. My friend and I raced over to the entrance almost two hours before the gates opened so that we had a chance of getting great spots for our favorite headliner. We found a spot among the other Radiohead diehards, and laid down on the blanket I brought. As they prepared to open the gates, the nervous energy from all of us looking for front row heightened. My friend and I found ourselves in a casual conversation with two guys who were there together, and a girl who had come by herself. Within minutes we had formed a plan of action and a pact to help each other get front row. We needed every action to go perfectly in order for it to work, and we trusted each other to get the job done.
As the gates opened, my friend and the two guys sprinted from the no bag line as the other girl and I took their bags to get checked. Once we were through, the two of us made a beeline to the stage to meet up with our friends. I spotted my friend who had saved me a spot on the rail at the center by the stage, right next to our new buddies. We all exchanged high fives, and predictably, I got emotional again. We prepared for a long day of waiting and standing at the stage, making more conversation with those around us. As the first band started, we could all tell how pumped the crowd was so far, even though it was only the fans lined up in the first few rows. As the act finished, everyone sat down with little room, packed together against the stage. It wasn’t long before every person around us had formed a connection with each other and it was amazing seeing how many people were bonding and coming together over one band.
Almost every diehard eventually formed a pact to save each other’s spots and help each other, as we knew when the crowd started growing that to leave for food and bathroom breaks would increase in difficulty. I was even more excited knowing that the bands leading up to the main act were among my favorites as well, and each brought a crazy amount of energy. By the end of the second act (a very flamboyant performance by the Struts), I was already feeling as though this was the best day ever. By noon it had started raining badly on all of us, as my small new squad sat down and huddled together. We all bonded underneath the extremely dysfunctional umbrella one of the guys had brought. Within the next hour we would discover that this same guy and I were practically the same person, both equally dorky. By the end of Foals (the third act lined up for the day), I realized that I felt more love from this crowd than I had ever felt in any group of people. Somehow, over the course of a few hours, I had made friends from all over the country, of all ages, and all personalities.
Despite social anxiety that I would often describe as crippling in certain situations, I was taken by shock at how comfortable and open I was with all these people. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Radiohead is a definite nerdy band, and everyone there could relate to the feeling of being music dorks who weren’t always the cool kids. I felt a true sense of belonging among the group of misfits brought together by a band. After a stunning performance by M83, it was just one short hour before our band. At this point, none of us had left our spots in nearly six hours. The minutes went by slowly, and when it was finally time for our headliner, everything felt surreal. When the band took stage, I completely lost it, entranced by the legendary band and entirely useless to fighting my emotions.
Throughout the next two hours I was part of the most amazing concert I have ever been to, even being noticed by the band at one point. The audience was so connected with the band, and as they played a few more sentimental songs towards the end, I was aware of how loudly the audience was singing along. When the show ended, we all said our bittersweet goodbyes to the friends we had made, making sure to connect with them again soon. Leaving that stage I had a sense of euphoria that was indescribable. This story is incredibly cheesy, but it was so much more to me than just a concert. I came out of this experience feeling like I belonged and like I was capable of being liked by other people, and this is something I will never forget.
