After weeks of agonizing anticipation, the day has arrived – and so have I.  The first thing I encounter is the bass, far off in the distance.  I feel it in my chest already, a steady heartbeat separate from my own racing pulse.  With each hasty step, the cool, sweet-smelling night air rushes across my skin as the music intensifies, beckoning me closer.  A current of electricity sings through the atmosphere as I near the entrance.  I pause to nervously dig through my pockets, hands shaking, before displaying my ticket, my lifeline, my link to the world that exists within this amphitheater.  Practically skipping with bliss, I glide into the scene, feeling as though I walk on air rather than cracked concrete.  Here, the familiar music reaches a deafening pitch, enveloping me in sound.  Before me, the lights of the stage rise to dazzle my eyes like a mirage in the distance.  I am convinced I have just crossed through the pearly gates to heaven.

However, heaven can be overwhelming at first.  The sheer number of people in the venue is staggering on its own, not to mention the tables set up everywhere I turn.  A table to my left offers t-shirts and other merchandise to those interested.  Apparently, a lot of people are interested, because the line stretches down the lawn for ages.  I detect the unmistakable aroma of fast food; for a moment it is so overpowering, I swear I can taste it.  But the most astonishing spectacle lies yards away from me, at the foot of the stage.  Unfolding like a flower from the stage are huge, grassy steps that ascend to form the amphitheater.  Hundreds of kids cluster against the platform, bathed in the stage lights.  They jump and scream along to the song, hands outstretched to the band onstage before them.  I am in awe of the chaos – the dancing, the moshing, the bodies being tossed above the crowd.  The air is alive with pure energy.  Still, all this pandemonium is tied together by that solid, booming bass, the detached heartbeat bonding us all.

Perhaps the most vital feature of a concert is the stage, the platform from which the musicians bestow their songs upon their frantic fans.  It acts as a centerpiece to this monument to anarchy, towering above the amphitheater, with spotlights blazing from the top of it.  I wonder how stressful it must be to perform up there, feeling the heat of the limelight and thousands of eyes on you.  The pressure is unimaginable.  Tonight, the stage is laid out to look like a campsite – featuring a fake campfire, massive caricatures of the bands’ faces on Mount Rushmore, and miniature, faux fir trees.  Eventually, one of these trees migrates into the audience; later, I will encounter a boy displaying it like a trophy, bent wickedly out of shape.  In the meantime, the band bounces around the stage with all the energy of a child on a sugar-high, unhindered by the guitars strapped to their bodies.  I begin to understand the symbiotic relationship between performer and spectator – the way the energy sailed from one to the other, intensifying the excitement in the air.

The more I watch, the more I see that the band on stage is expertly equipped to deal with the mayhem in the amphitheater.  They must have had years of experience to draw from, because they are clearly professionals in this particular type of chaos.  The crowd is bent entirely to their will – which is as terrifying as it is remarkable.  With a wave of the lead singer’s hand, the wild audience splits neatly in two, like a Red Sea composed of dancing human beings.  I cringe, anticipating what is to come.  Sure enough, at the singer’s signal, the two distinct mobs of flesh sprint straight toward one another, without even pausing to consider their own well-being.  They clash in the middle, a violent battle of bodies beneath the loud spotlights.  This strange, frightening ritual is aptly christened the Wall of Death.  Safe from my vantage point, I watch as limbs flail, frenzied music rages, and a barrage of rainbow confetti erupts from the stage.  It is a sight to make anxious grandmothers everywhere clutch their hearts in shock – and to make the whole venue cheer louder than ever before.

The whole event is undeniably insane, but from where I stand, it all makes perfect sense.  Here, the songs become a part of you, as essential as oxygen to your lungs.  The music takes on a form that is more than just sound – it is much less a melody that can simply be heard; it must be felt.  It is a palpable entity, something that can be sensed in your chest, your feet, in the chills that cling deliciously to your skin. After years of memorizing lyrics and purchasing posters and albums and songs and t-shirts, I have finally experienced my favorite band face to face, in the flesh, just feet away from me.  The thought fills me with electric delight. Through it all, the booming bass of the music continues its unfailing beat, steady ground for all this anarchy.  The music unites us all in the amphitheater that night, blissful under the cloudless sky.