On Page 9 you can find my sincerest attempt to write an objective review of my most recent concert which headlined Lana Del Rey.
Here, however, I make no attempt at being objective, and I will disclose no information regarding the craziness that was my most recent Lana concert experience.
In June 2015, my mom drove my sister and me to Washington, D.C., where we camped out for seven hours in over 100-degree weather to be up front for her show.
This time around, the extremes were rather different but equally as horrible, seeing as we spent 10 hours waiting outside of the Bryce Jordan Center in 35-degree weather.
My best friend and concert companion Brooke Battin also accompanied my sister and me on this Lana adventure.
The duration of our time spent waiting outside was rather uneventful and mostly consisted of trying not to focus on the fact that our fingers and toes could probably go numb at any given point.
Things started to get more interesting closer to the time that the gates were to open at 7 p.m. About a half hour before gates opened, workers from inside the venue walked outside with free pizza and merchandise in hand, saying that it was from Lana.
Although the pizza was the worst I have ever tasted in my life, you better believe that I shoved it down my gullet because my thoughtful queen purchased it for me.
Right before the gates opened, you could feel the tension in the air.
All of us Lana stans knew what was about to happen: war.
The closest I can relate this moment to was “The Hunger Games.” It literally is a dramatic countdown, followed by a mad rush to the stage where every girl and guy is for themselves.
Trying to remember the run to the stage is like trying to remember a weird nightmare.
I can recall bits and pieces like the venue concession stand workers laughing while they videotaped us and yelled, “Run faster!” or when a police officer started sprinting after a girl who cut through the crowd without getting the proper wristband.
When we finally got down the steps to the main floor, I ran faster than I ever have before to the main stage where there were roughly only 30 or so people lined up against the barricade.
We did it — we were the fastest, smartest and most dedicated of the Lana stans, acquiring center stage standing room only one row behind the VIP ticket holders.
That night, I was only a few feet away from the woman I have spent an embarrassing amount of time obsessing over.
I got to touch my queen’s arm and my sister was spoken to by her majesty as she signed an autograph.
Most people will read this article and conclude that I am absolutely crazy, but that’s OK because I know I am.
I don’t expect anyone to fully understand why I do these things or how much this night meant to me, but I’ll try anyway.
Lana is so much more than my favorite artist — she’s the reason my sister and I became close, the way in which I met my roommate and now best friend and the motivation that got me through this rough past year.
At the end of the day I realize she’s just a person, but seeing her up close with people with whom I connected through her music was really, for lack of a better term, special.
I may not ever see her again that close or with the same group of people, but for that hour and a half time period everything was perfect, and I will forever remember my perfect night spent in Lana land.