Project 1975

/ for crying out loud, settle down

"They're coming!"

Lilian screamed for the eighteenth time. I rolled my eyes as I typed away on my laptop. She was dancing around the flat that afternoon when I got home. But I was just as excited as she is. I was screaming and dancing on the inside as well.

They're coming. They announced a gig along side other artists in London this week and I internally fainted. This was the chance to finally watch them live and finally get to experience the thrill of watching them. Seeing them live would be a good chance for pictures too.

"We are so going! Wes bought tickets already, and we're most likely to be up front.." Lily said with so much excitement. I gave her a smile "That's awesome then. Im so ready for this." I told her and she squealed "oh my god, its like the first time again!" she sighed dreamily.

*

I had my camera with me, the dslr that my mother used a few years ago. It was the best camera I have and it has sentimental value. We were inside Wes' car driving to where the gig was taking place. I was shaking.

It was a fairly warm day today and I was hyped from all the coffee I had. Lilian kept talking and talking about how this is my first time to watch the band live and she was so happy for me. Wes just kept smiling and nodding, sometimes shaking his head.

I wonder how these two get along, when Wes is quiet and reserved while Lily is a bouncing ball of talk and energy. I smiled and looked out the window, watching everything we pass by.

The drive was a good twenty minutes and we finally arrived. We parked and was good to go. Lily had both her arms around me and Wes as we approached the entrance. It was an open field, filled with booths and people.

This was my first time attending something like this, and there was a variation of people around me. It was so thrilling and its so different from America. I took out my camera and started taking pictures of random booths and people, making sure they're detailed.

We were nearing the stage, there was a different band playing and it isn't until noon when the band plays. Lily told me that we'll meet at this same spot an hour before they play. She said I could roam around the grounds to take more pictures for Mr. Anderson.

I watched as the couple walked away from me. And I breathed in. Gotta let loose, gotta let loose this time I said to myself. It was some kind of mantra.. so I wont hold back. So I could be the person I want to be. Not the old, plain and boring Jamie.

*

It had been two hours now. I've been walking around, taking pictures and buying snacks from random booths. Now I was standing by this gate just near the stage. I was taking pictures of the crowd now, the sea of people waiting for the next band. I took pictures of faces and their clothes..

I stood on one of those big black cases where they put concert gear in, but I guess you're not allowed to do so. "You're not supposed to be here!" a big guy shouted as the gate opened. I froze on my position and he approached me. "Sorry, I was.." he cut me with a shake of his head and grunt "Stalking the artists, papparazi are allowed but not sneaking. Let me see your i.d if you're media" he said reaching out his large hands.

I gulped "I.. Im not media but Im interning for Ace Media and Photography" I explained to him but he reached out and grabbed my sling bag "No i.d then, so get down from there.." he said angrily and my sling bag snapped, the contents spilling on the ground.

"Seriously, no need to break things.." I groaned picking up the things on the grass. "Then just stay away from the gate, and you'll be fine" the man huffed and returned to his duties. What the hell.. I internally screamed and cursed at him.

"Here.."

someone lent me a hand on picking up my notepad and loose pens. I sighed "Thanks.." I replied not looking up but proceeded to put my things back inside the bag, even with the strap broken. I closed the zipper and shook my head "thanks for your help" I said to the male still not looking at him and went on my way, digging for my phone inside my jean pocket.

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