Justin Timberlake is extraordinary. This we all know. His ability to sing, dance, and play guitar and piano for two and a half hours and leave seeming less tired than me, watching his concert, is exceptional. Not to mention the fact that he can also act and he seems like a nice guy who stays out of the trouble many famous people are unable to avoid.
Much as I’m trying to change things, I am not extraordinary. This we all also know, or at least it feels like it. While in my head I sometimes pretend I’m a popular celebrity whose talent is celebrated, in reality, I’m a 24 year old aspiring novelist and screenwriter who feels like a food blogging outsider and failure that has never been kissed and went to Justin’s Detroit stop on his 20 20 Experience World Tour with her mom and aunt.
Because I never give up hope that something amazing will happen, I brought the sign above with me to the concert. What did I have to lose? However security not only made me throw away my poster, saying only paper size posters were allowed at this show, but also return my fancy camera to the car. These rules were not stated on the venue’s website and I can assure said venue that the marijuana we smelled was much more distracting and dangerous.
After being thrown for a moment (I mean, I’m a blogger, my hands don’t know what to do without a camera), we traversed the mountain of stairs to our fourteenth row floor seats. Somehow amid twenty thousand or so of our closest friends, the floor section felt very intimate, like a club performance. I pulled out my phone, which took excellent videos and not too shabby pictures. Plus, it didn’t run out of power like my aunt’s iPhone. Yay for my Samsung Galaxy S5!
Supposedly no signs were allowed in the show, but a girl on the opposite side of the floor had one stating it was her birthday. Justin saw it, talked to her, and even led the crowd in a round of Happy Birthday. She was 24. Ironic. She’ll never forget that moment, and neither will I.
She got to be special. Exactly what I wanted. I know, I know. Maybe he wouldn’t have seen my sign. Maybe he would have ignored it. But maybe not. I suppose I need to realize, as Mom said, that many people in the crowd wanted to be special, be singled out. It just sometimes seems like life is a series of other people getting that chance and me being left in their dust.
I pouted for a few minutes, but then I thought about how awesome my seats were, how often I get to have this opportunity, and how lucky I was to be there at all. I sang, I danced, I jumped . . . well maybe I didn’t jump when commanded, but four inch Louboutins, bad knees, and jumping don’t exactly mix 😉 I had a good time, because if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been anyone’s fault but my own.
So my heart is broken because I still haven’t gotten my shot at life, at success, at popularity. But that’s not Justin’s fault. At the end of those two and a half hours, full of every Justin hit you can think of, seamlessly strung together and blended with Jay Z, Eminem, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, and Cool and the Gang tunes, my voice had disappeared, my ears rang, my feet throbbed, and I put at least half my body weight on my aunt as we ascended the stairs. The marks of an awesome concert by any measure. Justin surely did more than his part to be certain we all had an enjoyable night.
The 20 20 Experience is just that, an experience. It’s the best concert I’ve ever seen, and Justin is the best performer of his generation and likely others. I dare anyone to try to best him. I’d go again tomorrow.
Sure, I left in much the same way I entered: never been kissed , aspiring novelist and screenwriter, dreamer, loser, Justin fan, girl hoping one day everything’s just going to click. The thing is I don’t know what tomorrow will hold, a scary and exciting thought all at the same time.