Last night my friend Nicole and I drove down to Chicago to try for tickets to Harry Styles’ sold out show at the Chicago Theatre. It’s a 90 mile drive from our city, which usually stretches out to a couple of hours because of horrid Chicago traffic. Our plan was to loiter at the box office and wait for held tickets to be released, something I had successfully done at a One Direction show years ago. We were fairly casual about it – on the outside. It was a whim (though planned in advance), and even as I confidently laid out the strategy for Nicole I don’t think I was ever actually counting on getting tickets.
We got tickets.
The beauty of the same day ticket releases is they’re usually for local VIP or friends and family of the performers, so they’re good seats. The trick is to hit the box office about three hours prior to the show, and keep checking back periodically. When we first approached the guy at the window he shook his head like he’d been doing it for hours. There were a few other hopefuls hanging around, and we only had to wait about 15 minutes before the guy tapped the glass and gestured for us to line up. Ninth row for face value and no fees, and with very minimal stress. Or at least comparable to date of sale Ticketmaster anxiety!
We managed to make pals with two girls who got tickets right after us, therefore next to us in our row, and we grabbed dinner before the show. I love the comraderie that exists at events like this. Concerts and conventions, the best way to meet new best friends. By the end of the night they were referring to us as their parents (a joke born of the decade plus age difference) and we all followed each other on Instagram. Nothing brings women and girls together like boyband members.
Wallowing in that lovely fellow feeling, we all clutched each other as the opening strains of Ever Since New York swelled, and the spotlight hit the watercolor curtain obscuring the stage. After it dropped, revealing the band and the fancy-grandma-Christmas-tablecloth suit, we only had eyes for Harry Styles.
How can one person be so deeply dorky but also smolderingly sexy? It boggles the mind. I jokingly told the kids that when the music started I would be activating my mom-at-a-wedding dancing. It perfectly matched Harry’s dad-at-a-wedding shuffle. How he makes fist pumping and enormous side strides hot – while wearing upholstery nonetheless – is a mystery. But it SUPER works for him. He’s magnetic, charismatic; he’s mastered the playful smirk and the disarming charm. He’s sweet, he’s sassy, he’s naughty … and it’s all so genuine! His stage presence is ridiculous, reined in only by the leash of his microphone cord. He flirted, he teased, and holy fuck did he sing his big heart out.
There was one point I found myself literally unable to sing along because I was smiling so hard I couldn’t unstick my cheeks. Harry is having the time of his life on his first solo tour and it truly does give the audience all the feelings. We’re proud like we know him personally, we’re thirsty as hell, and we’re having just as much fun as he is.
That feedback loop of positive energy was so palpable in that stunning old theatre. It almost made me forgive him for initiating the Hunger Games by picking venues with 3600 seats.
May I also say the set list was arranged perfectly? Not once did I feel like a change of pace or guitar was out of place.
Basically everything was brilliant. And also I have the hots for the bass player. Did I mention I’m quitting my job and following them on tour? GoFundMe for an RV is … just kidding. That would be amazing though. Who wants to join me?
The moral of this story is GO SEE HARRY STYLES LIVE. Don’t worry if you don’t have tickets. Follow my instructions above and you’ll (probably) be golden.