When I was turning 13, my parents gave me 3 tickets to my first concert. I choose 2 very excited friends and, dressed head to toe in white and fluro, we saw these 2 lads. Our hearts fluttered as we danced and sang and felt like every song was being sung to us. I remember it was Andrew Ridgely's birthday and the entire audience sang Happy Birthday to him. I also remember standing around outside the gates, screaming, as we waited for the boys to leave the venue. Our vigil paid off when our heroes not only stopped but got out of their limos to say hello and sign autographs. Do stars still do that today?
Fast forward 25 years. This time I was the lucky recipient of a paid ticket from a friend. We danced and sang but this time we knew that every song was most definitely not being sung to us. There were a few WHAM! songs thrown in to satisfy the remnants of our collective teenage desires and a few gay anthems to keep the rest of the audience happy. Our man could still swivel his butt and grooved his way through the best of our favourite tunes. The thirty-somethings in the audience went home to their sleeping children with songs in their heads wondering at all the amazing things that have led them to this place 25 years later.
images via here and here.