It takes a lot to get a weary New Yorker in the midst of holiday madness to drop everything they're doing and fly across the country. And yet, last Thursday morning, I did just that, as I hopped off a plane at LAX, with a dream and a ticket to see My Chemical Romance reunite.
And, approximately, three weeks later, I almost was actually in. Almost. At 7 p.m. PST, The Shrine — notorious for its chaotic entrance policy according to fan forums and online reviews — opened its doors, one and half hours before the show's listed start time . Suddenly, those who had camped out for a string of nights were suddenly pressed against the barricade alongside others who had simply just picked up their tickets from will call, having lucked out beyond belief.
Then, it happened. With the drop of that ominous curtain, the opening notes of Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge hit"I'm Not Okay " ringing out, seven years of coming-to-terms with MCR's breakup disappeared. That was also the last time my feet were directly underneath my body for the rest of the evening; we threw our fists up high and savored each brief breath of air and water bottle shared.
By the end of the night, all of that carefully applied glitter was for naught. I was a mess of mascara tears, drenched hair, and bruises, none of which would even register until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at my Airbnb before getting the most sound sleep of my life. I wasn't even slightly bothered by breaking my film camera in the pit; it was par for the course, a worthwhile sacrifice.
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