Today I was 26 going on 12. A few days ago while trawling the interweb for things to do in NYC I came across a Backstreet Boys concert happening in Cantral Park. And while current me cringed, 12 year old me’s heart lept moon-high. The decision was made.
This morning I woke up at 4.30, pressed snooze 3 times and almost contemplated not going. Then I got ready in ten minutes, jumped on my bike (Emily) and realised there is actually an incline when going from 110th St towards 64th for a while. I got there and stood in the general queue until I heard another woman say, “who is here alone?”. So I said that I am – and she smiled and told me to come with her – she had VIP tickets. This wonderful woman’s name is Tatiana – and this is what is so amazing about New York. You leave home thinking you are going somewhere on your own — and then you meet really cool people who are also here alone.
I am not even going to lie, no matter who judges me – the concert was so much fun. The crowd had a great energy and even though my voice is so awful, I sang all my favoutite tweenie hits to my heart’s content. The BSB sounded great and they had an actual band with them – which gave the pop music a bit of a rawer sound. They did all the dance moves we swooned over when we were 12 – even though these guys must all be pushing (or well over) 40.
In the end, there isn’t a price you can put on nostalgic memories.