Attending to a concert goes way beyond arriving to the venue, ticket in hand to walk in and enjoy the show. Specially when it comes to bands whose songs form part of the soundtrack to many moments of your life, from those that belong to the past, to those closer to the present. 

When that's the case, the ritual becomes something personal, and the experience starts from the moment you finally have it: the ticket that'll grant your entrance to a promising night.

The experience for each person is as unique and particular as the individuals from the audience itself. Reading or hearing about it from those who were there, makes you think each person is talking about a different event, no matter how many moments in common each report has.

For this reason, almost three months later, I open a tiny window in the vast world of reports to share with you the happenings of that night, September 28th, year 2013: the night of VAMPS' concert in Barcelona, Spain.



Never I imagined my first visit to Spain would be linked to this concert. But that morning, with eyelids reluctant to open from exhaustment, I was finally able to see it as a reality. I needed to get out of bed and get ready for what would be a long long day.

The whole experience was shared with rottingstrawberry, who commands the Street Team for L'Arc~en~Ciel and VAMPS in our country, and in whose blog you'll get to find a report to this concert from her perspective (it's in spanish tho).

The plan was getting up earlier than we actually did, get ready and go find a good spot in line. Little we knew about the event's organization and logistics, and we wanted to find a good place.

But... we both had accumulated fatigue from previous days, we were practically the same as Barcelona itself: reluctant to wake up early. By those hours (around 6:30am), Barcelona was plunged in darkness. Even the colossal Sagrada Familia remained hidden behind the same dark veil.



Once we were both up, first dead than plain, we began to get ready. I'm still at fault there. But when events are special for me, I want to look my best. It makes me feel good, eases my nerves. 

Since the day before we went grocery shopping to be prepared for this. We made our little lunch boxes, and once we were both satisfied with our looks, we went out.

The road to the venue was short, only a few subway stations later we were facing Sala Apolo. Doubts were confirmed: of course people had arrived there early, and with 9 in front of us, our places were 10 and 11 in the line. Numbers that were soon written at the back of our hands by the girl who had arrived there first and decided to take the reins of the situation, organization wise. It came in handy, since nothing about order had been said or planned.



The line grew slowly and progressively, reaching a lively crowd near noon hours. Friends who hadn't seen each other in a while, close friends, even closer enemies, foreigners, those who wear their best attires for the occasion and those who are happy with a pair of jeans and a tshirt only; even some remains for The GazettE's concert in Toulouse were there, wearing their concert tshirts as a reminiscence of a night that was still fresh in their memories (which by the way, was also reported by rottingstrawberry here).



Anyway, the lines for a concert are a synonym of diversity. Interesting to observe or perhaps stifling for others. But the nerves caused by anticipation will always be present. However, for many people the long wait helps creating bonds that later will make the Big Night an even better experience.

Must admit that... for me it's quite distressing, most the of the time. Crowds can truly make me nervous, which is absurd and ironic if you want to enjoy this kind of events. But that's how it is for me. However, going with friends always makes things better.

Nevertheless! No matter how early I was in the line, something quite important was missing: my ticket. Unexpected plan was unexpected, but with some help I got to contact someone willing to sell an extra ticket they had, and it was our plan to meet in front of the hotel they would be staying at, quite close to Plaça d'Espanya.

With fingers crossed and hoping the number on the back of our hands ensured us our place in line we went to the rooftop viewing terrace at Las Arenas mall, for a more pleasant wait. There, in company of the great Fanbook prepared by the venezuelan Street Team, we munched on our second sandwich of the day with some Dorayaki leftovers from the Takashi Ochiai bakery as dessert. And once we were closer to the meeting time, we ventured in search of the hotel... search that gave us quite the headache until we finally could find it.



To make it up for the short-lived, yet intense distress of not finding the hotel so easily, the person who would sell the ticket to me showed up at the SAME time as we did. We didn't even let her check in! Poor lady. But we quickly made the transaction and that way I was able to return to Sala Apolo with Nao.



The mood was intensifying. More people, louder chatter, growing nerves, but also growing excitement. The defensive attitude was making itself more noticeable tho, since not everybody was too happy with the idea of a number on the back of their hands defining their place in the line. 

That's where the venue's organization failed, but they couldn't care less. This kind of medium scale concerts tends to give place to such disagreements, no matter the country: it's not such a small event to give the audience complete liberty, BUT neither it is a concert of packed stadium magnitude to give importance to those who spent their money on the opportunity to be there. That's a shame, but I'm sure there must exist some exceptions.

During those hours before nightfall we shared with acquaintances. Well... Nao did. I limited myself to be a witness and lean closer to her to say whatever was needed ó_o);; Yup, cat ate my tongue. But with no doubt the girls we shared time with were very nice, fun, and really pretty. Their witticism sharp enough to make you laugh and have a good time.


Once the staff -who had been wandering the surroundings with frowns on their faces and a rushed pace typical to a busy person- started to take positions by the entrance, and metal barriers traced a safe road from the sidewalk to the venue's entrance, everyone knew the band was about to arrive.

With certain fear of getting too close to the barrier, the closest I could get was a corner by the open door. We had japanese homonyms next to us: a pair of japanese girl friends who had jumped the pond to see their fellow japanese in different lands. Both girls simply took off their tshirts to cheer for the newcomers in a rampant way that matched best the characteristic ways of this band. I think they were wearing the top of the swimwear sold as part of Beast on the Beach's merchandise.



At last, the mysterious dark bus stopped in front of Sala Apolo, members of the band jumping out of it one by one. 



For me, it'd be the first time ever to see them in person. Except for Hyde, whom I was able to see as a distant dancing bean during L'Arc~en~Ciel's iconic concert in Madison Square Garden the previous year. 


Jin and Arimatsu walked in quite fast, I don't really remember catching a glimpse of them in that moment. But then I was able to see Ju-Ken (responsible for 70% of the reasons I was there, ehem). Then KAZ and HYDE showed up, making the long wait of many be completely worth it.

In synchrony and with the shy aura that surrounds them when outside those attires that form part of their "Vampire Self", they didn't hesitate to please as many as they could. They signed autographs, shook hands and offered smiles.

The happy expressions of those absorbed in the moment were something worth observing. Once the band was inside the safety of Sala Apolo, they left behind them a crowd of watery eyes, guys who openly laughed in a mix of excitement and nerves, girls who jumped repeatedly on the same spot letting out a volley of words hard to decipher but that expressed only synonyms of joy; friends shared their opinions after seing the stars in the flesh, and there were those who relished on the glee in silence.

Our japanese homonyms put their shirts back on, and with the same spark in their eyes, they returned to their corner to share in little words the impression that closure had caused on them.

In conclusion, that moment managed to compact the audience much more, to bring them closer. I can say that with a hand on my heart since, after that instant, a girl I had in front of me in the line -with awesomely colored hair- managed to start a light and fun conversation with another girl from Russia (I think), that was also ahead. And so was the case of many others, who forgot about tags of nationality and styles to become something more homogeneous.

On our side, thanks to J's presence we were able to deliver the venezuelan input to the band. J has been manager for the band during previous overseas tours, and assisted this event in particular to offer his help and support I assume. 

So with that, another weight was off our shoulders. This initiative for the Fanbook wasn't something easy to bring to reality, but we hope that with the positive results more people from our country feel encouraged to support the band, or just any other initiative from other Street Teams in Venezuela.



Sunlight was slowly weakening, and seeing the atmosphere was getting a bit tense again as the staff from Sala Apolo was more often seen around, and more people arrived, it was the right time to go have dinner.



Our stop was Pans & Company, literally around the corner! It was quite empty, with spotless floors and quiet, clear restrooms. So it was our little oasis to have dinner in. There, we also got ready again before returning. Nao and I wanted to wear a pair of little horns we bought in Madame Chocolat, from their tiny bargain basket on the counter. They would go just right with the occasion.

...but I have yet to learn getting the hang of them. Not sure how many hairs I pulled out from Nao's head, struggling with the stubborn hair accessories. And let's not even talk about my own hair, which for some reason wouldn't stop falling during my stay in Barcelona. I was like some shedding cat.



At laaaast someone from Sala Apolo's staff played chess with us and we were divided in different lines according the the ticket type, by the side entrance, where a big light marquee showed the band's name with pride. This was the place, this was the entrance, and VAMPS was the band to play.



With the lines mobilized more times than I can remember, my head spinning from the many languages simultaneously heard around and increasing nerves, the sun said good bye with the promise of hearing everyone's experiences from that night, the next day.



Anticipation made my steps clumsier. When we were by the foot of the stairs that lead to the stage, two girls checked the codes of all the online purchased tickets, and after checking they would hand each person the corresponding "present" that came along with the Early Access ticket. Which was... a sticker. My entrance was both purchased online and Early Access, same with Nao's.



No problem with the sticker, really. Mine is actually placed in the middle of my make up shelf like the king of that space. But the so mysterious present was so mentioned and bragged about! It would have been way easier to just say "you're getting a sticker" and we would all have been like "yay a sticker!" instead of creating expectations about it. 

Later, after having clear the Sales Stand would be right inside the venue, we preferred to stay put in our places and shop after the concert.



Thus... let's say the growing anticipation that had a whole day to build up was finally released the moment each person was allowed inside. The race that starts from the bottom of the stairs to the front of the stage can easily qualify as Olympic Sport.

We rushed inside, took a small portion of floor in the second row of the left side (to see Ju-Ken) and grew roots in it. To be honest, when it comes to the arena experience, I prefer extremes: it's either the front or the very last row... what's in the middle goes for the brave ones. People can be quite intense, and I remember Nao pulling me out of a savage crowd at Versailles' concert (Venezuela, 2011) because I was kind of losing myself. We spent a way better time at the back.



And so here we were now. It was an extremely long day, emotions on a roller coaster. There was a lot I could observe and hear. Because this kind of events give place to such things. They can take the worst out of some people, it's true. But also the best. Within a day, or just a few hours you can become accomplice with those in front or behind you in the line.



But it's the sense of camaraderie, sharing a bottle of water, going to buy some coffee for the sleepy one next to you, saving the spot for that person who needs to go to the toilets, or sharing in whispers the clasified info that always finds its way through the lines.  

All of this and more is lived prior to the concert itself. To make it short: it's a journey. A chance to share and coexist. And if you go with a friend, it's the chance to form a solid team in which protecting one another is priority. All of this with the sole goal of making the best out of the experience, instead of something to regret later. 

I have yet to learn a lot about this. It's hard not to be defensive when you're surrounded by strangers from different cultures, maybe speaking languages you can't understand. But I always learn a life lesson during every concert, and I'd also like to learn how to be more useful -or invisible at least- instead of becoming the anger target of whoever I'm cramped against in the arena for two hours >>);;

So once again, I'll say this goes beyond buying the ticket and walking into the venue.