A farewell to Eras
Is it normal to feel grief over a concert I never went to?
I was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom with my laptop open, literally vibrating with nervous energy. Leah was on the other side of the world, active in the group chat. Charlie was on speaker phone. Inside the bathroom, Emily was cutting her hair because she doesn't really care about Taylor Swift.
Three of the four of us had the Eras tour ticket page loading on as many devices as we could wrangle. Credit cards at the ready. Eyes glued to your turn to purchase tickets is coming soon… next update in 4 seconds.
That was the first moment of the first sale for tickets to the Australian leg of the show, and we repeated a variation of the routine for every ticket release to follow. During our very last chance to get tickets I was at work, shelving books with one eye on a work laptop balanced on the trolley. My shift ended around the time the last tickets sold out and I cried on the bus home, then consoled myself by ordering a custom-design pity shirt.
I wept intermittently over the next few days before entering a state of 'not thinking about it too hard'. The Australian shows came and went. I tried not to take it personally that Taylor Swift had skipped New Zealand. TTPD set was introduced, and I consoled myself with the thought that at least everyone at the Australian shows had missed it too (I know I'm bitter but it's a hobby so let's move on). I entered every ticket giveaway I could get my hands on.
Now we're two weeks from the end of the musical event of our lifetimes, and it feels like grief.
There are people with more claim to Taylor Swift than me — Red made me a fan, however I wasn't a bona fide swiftie until Folklore — but she's been my top artist every year since Spotify started Wrapping. She's on every single one of my playlists, and I like to think I'm one of those troubling people who pops into her friends' heads whenever they hear Cruel Summer. I'd picked out what I was going to wear to the concert.
It feels trivial when I explain it, but I didn't just miss an industry-changing concert from my favourite artist of all time. I missed out on being a part of history. Being part of swapping friendship bracelets with strangers and experiencing the insane psychological phenomenon of post-concert amnesia. I would have loved to sit on a hillside in front of the stadium and sing along with thousands of others who also drew the short straw. Attending the Eras concert would have stayed with me for the rest of my life, and instead I'm stuck with the grief of having missed out.
The last live stream is on my partner's birthday but he gets it — he was in the ticket trenches with us on that last day, and he has a matching t-shirt. His friends will be in the lounge though, so I can't cry too loudly. Two weeks later, I'll be in Vancouver visiting family, drinking up the leftover Eras atmosphere (you know I'm praying for a last minute show add-on in the same city two weeks later... god gives his feeblest dreams to his most desperate fans).
It's something I should probably come to terms with but, while I hope the knife's tip grief fades, I don't think I ever will. I love to love things so hard.
And next time Taylor Swift announces a concert, even if it's not in New Zealand, even if it's not the same — you know I'll be there.
Even if it's on a hilltop outside.
B.
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