Tommy Collison

Yesterday, I went to what was really my first ever concert. Long-time readers of the blog might remember that I’m not a big fan of concerts. I had a ton of friends going and had liked Green Day for years so I decided to dive in and go for it.

I booked tickets over the phone after seeing that there was a special needs number. At this point, the second ticket I was booking was for my dad. So when the TicketMaster woman asked me if the second ticket I was booking was for my carer, I said “yes” because, well, he is!

“Oh yeah; his ticket is free”. I knew there was a good reason for ringing the number.

Fast forward to Mid-May. I was telling my Dad about how practically everyone I knew was going. He then said “Well, you know I don’t have to go if you’d like to go with someone else” (isn’t my Dad awesome?) After making sure that he didn’t mind, I realized that one of my best friends was finishing her Junior Cert. that morning and that I’d missed her birthday back in March (I’m absolutely terrible with birthdays, one of my highly embarrassing flaws), so I rang her up and asked her if she wanted to go. Another really good mutual friend of ours was going so it looked like it was going to be great fun.

Fast forward again to Tuesday night. I’m staying at the mutual friend’s house when their mum comes in, looking to organize how we’re getting home after the concert. I can’t remember specifically what she said about tickets, only the sinking feeling when I realized I hadn’t brought them with me –  they were where they’d been since they’d arrived in the post: on top of the mantle piece in the kitchen.

“Shit” I murmured, and turned to my computer. A lot of Twitter and Facebooking later (and emailing the special needs director of the show, who’d previously been in touch about special needs parking) I had a plan: I’d ring TicketMaster in the morning (this was almost 10pm on Tuesday night) and try and arrange duplicates. I had my order number and the credit card details of the card that I’d booked the tickets with, so it should have been no problem. My alternative was that Francis, a good friend of mine from school, was coming up to Green Day from Limerick, so if I could get Mum to drop the tickets to his house about 10 minutes away, I could somehow find him at Marlay Park and get the tickets off him. The latter didn’t seem like a wholly attractive proposition because A) I didn’t expect to be able to find Fran easily among the 100,000 capacity Marlay Park before the show started and B) Although not my intention, I knew he intended to try and get into the mosh pit up the front, which would require him to be there quite early, and waiting for me to arrive would hinder these plans.

I woke up at 08:50 on Wednesday morning and immediately began looking for a number I could call. I found one and it was 09:17 when I put my call through. After a brief conversation I found out that if I presented my order number and a scan of the credit card at the ticket area, they’d provide me with spares. I got working on getting the scan and also making my way into town with the friend I was staying with.

Our plans to get the 2pm into Prosperous didn’t happen so we found ourselves on the 3pm. The email I’d gotten detailed that there’d be a bus leaving from St. George’s Quay that went to Marlay Park, and this is where we headed. We were there for about 45 minutes and they were supposed to arrive every 15-20 minutes, the email going so far as to boast that they were a ‘very frequent service”. My ass. With the bus not arriving (and there were other Green Day fans at the same bus stop, so we doubted if we were wrong), I hailed down a taxi, dreading how expensive it would be, thinking Marlay was on the Northside, for some reason. I yelled at the other Green Day fans at the bus stop, asking if they wanted to share a taxi to the place with us. They awkwardly told us that it was ‘grand’. I was worried that they wouldn’t get to the Park at all, which is why I asked. As someone who enjoys navigating strange cities, I can spot people who hate it a mile off, and these people were examples. With no bus coming, their method of transport was missing and they didn’t look like the sort of people who made or could readily make alternative arrangements. On the other hand, I was worried too about the cost of the taxi (remember: I thought Marley Park was on the northside) so I knew that splitting the taxi fare by 7 would be cheaper than by 4.

We got in, anyway, and started for Marlay Park. I looked at Google Maps and was surprised that we were heading south. I asked the driver about it and soon saw my error. Quite soon, we arrived. I had expected a longer journey and way more traffic (this was about 17:20 with the first act beginning at 18:10). I read the meter: €16.83. What?!

After paying the deceptively low fare (€4.21 each!), we went into Marlay Park where we were soon stopped. I had guessed that my cane might cause a problem as it’s wood and would (heh) make a damned good missile if I was so inclined. No, our bottle caps were the problem and we were forced to surrender them. The people in front of us had their backpacks searched, as did the people behind us, and yet ours weren’t. Once again, people are unsure how to act around disabled people, afraid of looking bad in front of them or offending them or whatever. I see it every time going through airports. Not that I’d anything remotely dangerous in my bag  –  a hoodie and an “Oxford First Dictionary” that I’d borrowed from my friend to hold and protect the credit card scans I had.

I got the replacement tickets easily enough; “what’s your name?” “do you have proof of credit card?” “right, here you go”. They gave us four at the start too, epic mix-up. I’d originally planned to go with my friend to the special-needs area but since we’d a pretty good view and we didn’t want to have to search for each other in the dark after the show, we stuck together, sitting down just off the path.

Joan Jett was quite good, as was Paramore. It was my first time hearing either band and they were quite enjoyable. We sat and chatted and took photographs quite amiably. Green Day came on and the whole area seemed to perk up. We all stood up and the Park filled even more. Green Day are a phenomenal band because they possess an incredible ability to get a crowd alive. I can’t compare them to other bands but after the show I get the feeling that it’ll be quite difficult for a band to match Green Day. The sound quality was excellent and Marlay Park’s a great venue – quite relaxed and it has a great atmosphere. I’d heard stories of Billie Joe Armstrong (the lead vocalist) being egotistical but I didn’t get any such vibes, which was nice.

Overall, it was a fantastic evening and I’m quite definitely seeing again when/if they come back. :)