It was nearing the second hour I’d been standing in line. I was one of the lucky people who had a spot indoors. It was one of those frigid days nobody wants by the time March rolls around, but you aren’t surprised when it does because we’re in Michigan. I had already done my fair share of people watching (concerts are the best place to do this. Wal-Mart is the second runner up.) There were three very tall, average-looking men standing in front of me who couldn’t have been older than 25. From what I could hear they drove in from New York just to attend this concert. They seemed like nice enough men, would be pretty decent body guards, but I really hoped they wouldn’t be standing in front of me. I was caught by surprise when a security guard shouted that the gates were about to open, and that everyone with floor tickets would have to find the table with wristbands before they could go into the pit. No sooner had he finished his sentence that the gates open and people started running.
I had been to the Palace of Auburn Hills before, but this was my first concert at the arena. I hadn’t expected that people would start running, nor did I have any idea where they were running to, but I decided in the moment that the safest bet was to follow the three large men that had been standing in front of me. Even if they didn’t know where they were going they would definitely keep people from trampling me to death. They did know where they were going, though, because they led me to a large table set up in the middle of the walkway. I sheepishly handed my ticket over to the woman standing behind the table and in return she gave me a two-page piece of paper. She must have noticed the confused look I had because she laughed and said “it’s a waiver, dear, you’re in the pit and anything could happen.” If I wasn’t nervous before, this is where they set in. I had been to Warped tour before and I swore that was the last time I’d ever get stuck in any crazy pits. I assumed I wouldn’t have that issue at a Muse concert, but signing off the waiver and getting my wristband made me doubt my decision to get floor tickets.
By the time I made it down to the floor it was pretty tightly packed despite the concert not starting for another two hours. I managed to weave my way across the floor to the right side of the stage but once I got there I had nowhere to go. I stood off to the side by myself trying to think of the best way to get to the barrier. A sudden hand on my shoulder snapped me away from my scheming. “Hey, you’re the girl that was behind us the whole time in line, right? My group has some room on the barrier and you could totally fit…unless you want to stay in the middle of the pit.” I was so caught off guard that I couldn’t think of any response other than a massive grin and a squeaky “thanks.” I followed him to the front of the crowd and claimed my spot next to him on the barrier. It was the happiest I had been in a long time and the concert hadn’t even begun.
“So, why are you a Muse fan?” he asked, catching me off guard for what seemed like the billionth time that night. Many people would probably answer “because I like their music” or “because Matt, Dom and Chris are really attractive.”Both of which are extremely accurate but neither are the main reason I’m a fan. I knew the answer to this question was going to take a while, and from my hesitation I’m sure he realized this, too.
If you would have told me more than five years ago that a band consisting of three British men in their mid-thirties would be one of the most important and influential things in my life I would have laughed in disbelief and thought you were somewhat crazy. Nobody can feel so strongly or attached to people that just make music and don’t even know you exist, right? I would have been very, very wrong. You see, when you go through difficult things in life you tend to become attached to the person or thing that helps get you through them.
I started listening to Muse after escaping an abusive relationship, and while I did have people helping me through the repercussions, the music Muse created was the only constant I had. This was the first band I’d found that had a song catering to any emotion I was possibly feeling at any given time and the first band that I could relate to. Whenever I was depressed, angry, or in the middle of an anxiety attack all I needed to do was turn on a Muse album and it was able to calm me down. They were also the band that cured my loneliness. I’ve always been a quirky person, with a love for conspiracy theories and deep space exploration, neither of which are ideal when searching for friends with mutual interests. There were three British men that shared these mutual interests with me, though, so when I was lonely I’d watch interviews. Sometimes they’d make me laugh, sometimes they’d make me cry, but they were always there to cure my loneliness and make me feel less ashamed of my interests.
I was snapped out of my thought process when the lights dimmed and the band went on stage. Hands holding cameras and cell phones shot up and everyone went crazy. They began playing their song “Invincible” (the song that bears the most meaning to me because of the moving lyrics) and I felt like I had run into a brick wall. I instantly began crying. With tears streaming down my face I looked behind me and saw I wasn’t the only one with tears in my eyes and that’s when it hit me.
Being in the front of the crowd, surrounded by thousands people, I realized that I wasn’t alone in my strong feelings towards them (read: obsession). I realized that they mean much more than that to many others. I realized that sometimes, three British men and the music they create can make more of an impact on your life than they, or you, know. I turned to the man standing next to me and said “I’m a fan because they saved my life.” He looked at me, tears in his eyes, too, and nodded. I knew he understood.