The lights go out and suddenly, I can’t hear myself think.
I squeeze my sister’s arm and jump up and down uncontrollably. She’s doing the same. We both scream right into each other’s faces, but both of us can barely hear it anyways. The other sixteen thousand people just erupted into screams too.
“OH MY GOD!!”
My heart pounds.
My thoughts race.
My thoughts stop and the screams begin to take their place.
Queen’s “We Will Rock You” begins to blast over the speakers into the darkness. It’s loud. I scream again.
Ashley jumps up and down repeatedly. I’m alternating between yelling lines of the song and screaming my throat raw before anything has even happened.
“….gonna be a big man someday! ...aggghhh! ...you got blood on your face…agggh… waving your banner all over the place…aghhhhh!...”
From the seventeenth row on the floor, Ashley and I can see the three balconies all around us, packed with people.
Cameras flash everywhere, taking pictures of the empty stage.
Fans wave glow sticks hysterically in the darkness, creating a sea of lights in the upper tiers that rise around us.
Lights flash from every direction all over the stage. Laser lights move around the entire arena, pointing at the stage, the ceiling, the audience.
All of a sudden, I realize I’ve never been more excited than I have been in this moment. I never once thought that Freddie Mercury’s voice would send me into a euphoric fit. I scream just once more, for good measure, and then continue yelling the lyrics of the song.
The giant circular screen hanging above the stage begins to lower on to the stage. It’s huge. It’s probably at least fifty feet high. If it’s even possible, the screams become louder. My throat is dry. I scream anyways.
“WHITNEY!!! It’s HAPPENING! It ACTUALLY is!!!”
Queen stops singing. The song is over. Some non-descript rock music begins to play the same few chords over and over on electric guitar. The screams grow again. The circular screen now hovers directly over the stage, covering it almost entirely so that we can’t see if they’re on stage yet. The screen flashes red and black lights. My voice will be shot before this even starts.
My heart pounds, partly from the lights that are flashing, partly from the thousands of girls screaming in every direction around me, partly from the music that is playing a song I don’t know. But mostly, because I know what is going to happen next. Any second now.
Finally, it happens. The screen lifts back up. There’s a small circular platform that is below the stage, and it's rising and spinning to become level with the rest of the stage. The screams grow. My heart races. My grip on Ashley’s arm tightens. She returns the pressure. We jump higher. We stand on our tiptoes, waiting. Screaming. Staring at the hole in the stage, waiting for it to rise.
The tension and excitement are palpable. Everyone in the arena is staring at that spinning, rising platform. I’m screaming again. So is everyone else. All sixteen thousand of us.
“THERE THEY ARE!!”
“IT’S KEVIN!!!! … It’s Kevin JONAS!!”
“HOLY CRAP!! HOLY CRAP”
I guess no one at a Jonas Brothers concert should be saying ‘crap,’ but that doesn’t matter. No one at a Jonas Brothers concert who isn’t a chaperone should be over thirteen years old anyways. But we don’t care. No one here is looking at the two university girls screaming and yelling for the curly haired teen heartthrobs rising on to the stage. Everyone else is too preoccupied with their own yelling to notice.