'Cause We're V-I-Ps and We Bang Like This

‘Cause We’re V-I-Ps and We Bang Like This

The fans of the Korean boy band Big Bang are called VIPs. Big Bang’s most recent world tour is entitled “MADE.” The concept behind the promotion is that Big Bang ‘made’ VIPs and that VIPs ‘made’ Big Bang. On the surface, that is easy to translate – without a band, there would be no fans; without fans, there would be no band. But my recent experiences at their NJ concert gave me a much deeper insight and appreciation of what it means to be a VIP.

First, I should tell you that I do not travel well by plane. I become very dehydrated despite drinking lots of water. My ears do not pop when changing altitude which often becomes very painful. I’ve tried all the remedies and none of them work. The only thing that relieves the pressure for me is to more or less hang upside down to drain the Eustachian tubes which is impossible in the airplane itself. So why would I put myself through that twice in three days? Because the experiences that I have at my destination are usually worth it and this trip was no exception.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the culture, South Korea has mandatory military service. Several of the members are reaching the maximum age for enlistment shortly. The enlistment period is two years. Even if the members stagger their enlistment and other members cycle in as the first ones cycle out, it will be at least six years before the group as we know it will be back together again. It will be even longer before a comeback album is released and another world tour booked. Their NJ concert on this tour fell during the fall break at the school where I teach. Since there would be no guarantee that the next tour would even come to The States, let alone have dates where I would be available to travel, this really was a ‘now or never’ opportunity.

So, on Saturday, October 10th, my Lizzy Girl and I flew to Newark, NJ in order to attend the Big Bang concert at the Prudential Center on October 11th. We were too hyped with anticipation to sleep but eventually drifted off. We had set our alarm and, with only a few hours of sleep tucked under our belt, headed out early from the hotel to get a good spot in line for admission. Though sound check was not until 5pm, we were there before 9am and were 133 and 134 in line. We only know this because of the numbered wristbands that were given out prior to admission. The majority of people in front of us had been to the concert the night before and had just gotten right back into line. By the time they started to let us into the building eight hours later, the line filled the width of the sidewalk and stretched an entire city block and rounded the corner. I have no idea how much further it went down that street. Sound check was at 6pm and then we had a two hour wait for the concert itself. The adrenaline released during the event kept either of us from sleeping well again that night though we did manage a couple of hours before having to leave for the airport for our red-eye flight home. By the time we got back to the house, we tallied it up and figured that we had less than twelve hours of sleep in a 72 period. But what an amazing 60 hours it was!

It started with the shuttle from the Newark airport to the hotel. As we got close, sign posts with arrows saying Prudential Center were visible. Through the front windshield we could see a huge building with the Prudential logo. Lizzy asked it that was the center. The driver said ‘no’ that it was the banking building and the center was a bit further away. He stated that he wasn’t going to be going past it and going the long way to the hotel because there were a bunch of crazy KPop fans lined up for miles for some concert. At which point, Lizzy and I simultaneously broke out into song, “Oneuldo chingudeuri wasseo, man how you been what’s up?” “Oh Lord help me,” wailed the driver, “Even momma knows the words!” Lizzy and I broke into gales of laughter.

Fast forward to the next day. We are already exhausted from our travels and not enough sleep and have eight hours in front of us to stand in line, eleven hours before the concert starts, and approximately fourteen hours give or take before we can even look at a bed. We just knew that it was going to be one l-o-n-g interminable day. If you ask me now, I can’t tell you where the time went. We blinked and it was over. But even now, two days after our return, the video flashes through my head like a playlist on loop and the feels remain.

Ironically, the door at which we are queuing had big letters identifying it as VIP East. We tell ourselves that they changed the sign just for us. We introduced ourselves to the groups in front of us and those who came behind us. Can you be fast friends with someone you just met? Usually I would say no, but there is something about an experience like this that ties people together. We knew that we had at least one common bond - we were all VIPs. The small talk begins. We exchange our stories of when we first became a fan. Someone’s phone goes off. The ringtone is a song from another group. They apologize and hurry to answer it. It didn’t even phase the rest of us as we start singing along. How often had I been in that same situation? How many times had I been laughed at when my music started playing? How many times had I been embarrassed like her? Too many to count. No reason to apologize we assure her. We know. We understand. We have more in common than Big Bang. We start to exchange stories of when we first went ‘down the rabbit hole’ as I like to call it (see my blog by the same name). Their tales are all different yet they are all the same and they all led us to the same place and time.

Back before the internet and online ticketing, you used to have to stand in line to wait to get tickets for concerts and premiere showings of movies. I’m no stranger to this process. But it’s easier if you have a buddy. Lizzy and I had made a plan before we went so that one person was always there to hold our place in line. It was totally unnecessary. Well, not exactly. But it was modified. Two people were sent off with everyone’s cell phones (yes, we gave them willingly to total strangers) to charge them all. Two people took everyone’s order and money (yes, we willingly gave cash to total strangers) and went off to get lunch. We sent everyone in small groups to use the bathroom. One of the members of our new clique left their walled in the restroom without realizing it. It was discovered when a security guard came walking along the sidewalk calling out their name and it was returned to them with everything still intact including ticket, charge cards, and money. It had been turned into them by another person who used the same facilities behind them. Would that have happened any other place and time? The humanist in me would like to believe that it would. The realist knows better.

Individuals come through passing out banners for the band and individual singers that were printed from their own personal funds or money received from fund raisers. Others come through sharing links for downloading images to be displayed during certain songs. Still others share art materials they’ve brought to make signs. All in attempt to show our collective support to the group we came to see perform and show solidarity. We exchange contact information with everyone.

Someone comes through the line passing out the wristbands. Already? Wait … it can’t have been six hours already! But it has. We must show them our tickets before we can get one. The two women in front of us have a ticket for their friend whose flight was delayed and is enroute from the airport and hasn’t yet arrived. They are told they can not get a wristband for her. They show him the ticket and the text that the taxi is only ten minutes away. He still refuses. Ten people all take up for an individual we’ve never even met. He agrees to hold her number for her but they must find him when she arrives and he moves on. When she arrives, we send out a search party for him and bring him back. Shortly thereafter we file in for sound check.

We are held in a waiting area and still have another 45 minutes to pass before we are let onto the floor. Over a thousand people pass the time doing the wave. Since I have osteoarthritis in my knees, Lizzy is concerned that I might get trampled going down the steps with people rushing to get past and get to the stage. But it is an orderly line and we file calmly though purposefully to our destination. We are in the third row back, center stage. Sound check only serves to get our energy level up further than it already was and whet our appetites. But this was just the appetizer and we have two hours to wait for the main course.

They were supposed to let us leave and re-queue according to number but something went wrong with that process and we were told to stay where we were and that they were letting the rest of general admission onto the floor. That was when the pushing and shoving started as people began to jockey for positions closer to the stage than what they had originally had. Now, this was NOT a cool thing to happen. And if they thought that I was going to be an easy target because I was a bit older than the rest of them, they should have done a background check and learned that this ajumma has spent the last thirty years of her life doing Mardi Gras in New Orleans where they know how to stake out their spot and their claim to plastic beads. And the stakes here were much higher!

We do not know the people in front of us because they were further up in line than we were. We do not know the people behind us because they were further back in line than we were. But like those at the start of the day we *do* know them. Lizzy and I tell everyone around us to just sit down and plop to the floor. People follow suit. We make a pocket of isolation. And the process begins again. When did you first become a fan? More friends are made. People are sent for food and water for the group and spots are jealously guarded instead of stolen.

Sadly, those at either end of the stage did not follow our example and those in the front of those sections were crushed up against the barricade to the point where they were unable to breathe and the security guards needed to order the fans to move back. Lizzy made the comment that everyone could have a good time like we were having if everyone just respected each other. I wish that I could say that was the end of it but it wasn’t. Once the concert started, and everyone was on their feet, there was more pushing and shoving to the point where you could hardly move. It was so claustrophobic that I started to cramp and go into muscle spasms several times. Such is the nature of the mosh pit. But I knew it going in and, even so, would not have changed it for the world. We had lost a little ground but were still close enough to make eye contact with group members on several occasions. Crossed thumb and forefinger hearts were exchanged.

The concert itself was amazing. It was everything I hoped for and more but I’m not going to give you a review. There are a gazillion of them on the web. The band has a diary of all their tour locations that you can subscribe to on their YouTube page. This is a blog about the people who MADE Big Bang. The one thing that I will say about is that at the end when they each spoke to the audience, GD explained that it had been three years since they had stood on that stage and didn’t know how long it would be before they would stand there again. He asked if we would be there when they returned. (Remember what I said earlier about how long that might be.) Collectively, like a hive, everyone extended their pinkie and swore ‘yaksokha’ (I promise). It was an incredible thing to see. And I won’t lie, it brought tears to my eyes.

You would think that the story would end with the concert but it doesn’t. I can’t tell you why I didn’t remove my wristband. Maybe because I needed some tangible evidence to prove to myself that it had all really happened. But I’m glad that I didn’t. Like some unspoken rule, I wasn’t the only one. Because the next day at the airport, no matter what hotel we had stayed at, we could all identify each other and come together once more. Some of us, previously completely unknown to each other, on the same flight home to the same city. And that flight was just like standing in line the day before. More stories. More friends. More bonds.

When I got home and got online, there were already e-mails waiting for me with photos and videos. I will be reliving this experience for quite some time to come. Forty-eight hours later I am still catching up on my sleep, I still ache from head to toe but I would do it all again in a heartbeat. With the same people. With new ones. It doesn’t matter. Because we are all VIPs at heart. And that heart beats as one. ‘Cause we’re V-I-Ps and we Bang like this. Modu da gati chong majeun geotcheoreom, Bang! Bang! Bang!