Aimee Jay | Contributing Writer
In a small town in the north of Ireland, the wee hours begin to set in as the street lamps flicker into judgement of the night before. Two women, middle aged, assertively make their way up the littered main street. Quietly and quickly, they pass the Friday night patrons – who, for various reasons, remain. Perhaps some stay because their unbuttoned, sick-stained shirt is somewhat uninviting to a taxi man. Others linger on in denial, refusing to let their dashed hopes and dreams of a Friday night give way to Saturday morning sobriety. Then there are those who sit happily consuming a cold curry and chip, which, affording them more comfort than the night ever could – is reason enough to stay. The women, unconcerned and uninterested in a world admittedly forgotten by them, confidently make their way to a much more lively scene. As they take their place amongst the many others, they prepare to stand their ground if the matter should arise. After all, they are in a crowd that will need the very bouncers who had an easier time pacifying the rowdy publicans of the night before. It is 4am on the last Saturday of September and my mother and her friend begin their seven hour wait for One Direction tickets.
At its conception, the queue was comprised mainly of eager teenagers and desperate parents. At the very top were two sixteen year old girls. Under their makeshift tent of beach chairs and blankets they proudly announced that they had been there since 6pm the previous evening. A grandmother handed out plastic cups and poured tea from her flask all while doting on her precious grandchildren. The wait was worth it, of course, the wee pets, sure weren’t they wonderful? One husband and wife duo secured their spot in shifts. Every hour one would relieve the other of waiting duty and retreat to the relative comfort of a nearby car. A grown man, evidently needing to avail of the public toilets, paced in his claimed pavement square frantically – too stubborn to lose his space.
The wait was worth it, of course, the wee pets, sure weren’t they wonderful?
While swapping stories of previously failed attempts to get the golden tickets, cursing Ticketmaster, cursing the glory Santa Claus would get for their endeavours; a momentary unity began to knit in the crowd. For this brief early period – they were a family of adults questioning their own sanity. They were a band of brothers on a quest. That is until the day began to break. An hour before the tickets were due to go live, the shop owner made his way into the venue via the side entrance. Rumours began to trickle through the crowd – would he be opening early? Would everyone get a ticket? 10am came and went without the expected opening. Bouncers made their way to the head of the queue to confer with the manager (having been struck down by a car the month previous he was in still crutches, and badly bruised; when later faced with the wrath of angry parents he would consider which experience had been the most exhausting blow). There was evidently something wrong. Twenty minutes later, the mob splurged against the counter. The computer systems, having temporarily failed, were revived just when all hope seemed truly lost.
Fear began to set in. Adults began to shamelessly skip. Handbags were being used to wedge women back into their rightful spot.
Meanwhile, worried latecomers had attempted to wriggle deep into the queue. The neat orderly snake of people protruding from the doorstep of Top 40 burst in volume. Fear began to set in. Adults began to shamelessly skip. Handbags were being used to wedge women back into their rightful spot. The two sixteen year old girls originally heading the queue now stood isolated from the crowd. It took their crying pleas and the help of the bouncers to bestow them back to their position of former glory. The ‘family feel’ of the early morning had all but gone. As the shop assistant shouted out groups of seating tickets people growled, taking whatever they could get before triumphantly filtering their way back into freedom. My mother, successful, left with the final two tickets and a sense of triumph that kept her at the edge of reality for the rest of the day.
