Sunday, March 13, 2011


Thursday night. Dublin City. The O2 Arena. The wind was cold, people were shouting, lots of people. About as soon as they got inside, the shouting became talking, conversations, and smiling, lots of smiling. Giddiness, too much of it, maybe, and rumours spreading through the growing audience by the minute.

The lights went down. Ryan Sheridan came on stage. He began playing. The conversations became cheering. Some people sang along to his music. Some people did not know all the words. Some people had not heard of it. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed it. Five songs later, he left the stage. The lights came back on. The stage was blacked out. Music began to play to stop people getting bored.

The lights came back on. It was nine. The Script walked on stage, one by one, beginning to play their music. Everyone cheered. Everyone sang along to every song. There was banter between music. Someone kept holding up a sign in front of everyone. Abuse was roared at her for blocking the view of the stage. The music kept playing. There were no mosh pits. There was no fighting, except for things being thrown at Sign Girl.

The music stopped. People cheered. People sang. The Script came back for an encore. Everyone sang along.

The music stopped one last time. The lights came back on. Sixteen thousand people poured into the night.

People talked. People who didn't know each other talked. Someone who was in her thirties got away with looking twenty five. She got guided along through Dublin by complete strangers, and together she and her friend got in a taxi on O'Connell Street, safe and sound.

Still no one can believe how much older she was than she actually looked.

The night ended. People slept.

Friday night. The cinema. The wind was cold. The wind was angry. Someone waited for his friends, who were running unusually late, but not so late they would miss the film. They bought student price tickets to see Unknown. They sat in the dark in a row of six - five of them, leaving a seat at the end. They talked. Loudly. The ads were playing. Everyone talked. Everyone laughed. Everyone smiled.

The ads stopped. The film began.

Everyone sat in silence. It wasn't the biggest screen in the cinema, but it was big enough. People tried to keep up with what was happening, trying to figure it out before the end. People got roped into it. Everyone enjoyed it. The credits began. The lights did not go back up. Someone said it was better than Taken. They were deemed wrong.

People went home. The night ended. People slept.

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