From Pamela aka BittersweetSunshine on the LPMB

A body riddled with sweat, a pair of numb legs, a phone filled with blurry pictures and a giddy smile which could probably last a week.

Those were the things I went home with last week after watching that one band I’d give away my right pinky for—Linkin Park.

Call me a fangirl, call me a teenybopper. I won’t wince. I’ve been slapped with far too many frustrating labels back in college. I mean, being the only girl who liked Linkin Park among guys who would rather bang their heads to Metallica and Tool, it’s inevitable that you’d get to be at the receiving end of their merciless teasing. But when I heard the official news last month that our country was to be included in the international stops of their Meteora World Tour, something in me snapped. This was what I had been waiting for FOUR YEARS. Imagine that! Linkin Park had sung the soundtrack of the last quarter of my life, surely I have every right to see them, don’t I?

Even if I live a hundred miles away from the concert venue, right?

So I did things which no self-respecting 21-year-old yuppie would do: I joined contests in an effort to save on tickets, which by the way, did not come cheap. I think I may have joined 5 contests, all of which had prime tickets at stake and a chance to meet and greet them. I fought hard and got rewarded in one contest: a pair of two general admission tickets for the concert. But I was not contended. I’m not flying all the way to Manila just to be stuck in the farthest, loneliest area of the venue, am I? So I bought myself the last remaining front row ticket [Ticket Number 1500 at Php 2,535! My mom’s gonna be thrilled when she sees the credit card bill!].

I was in Manila for five days. Staying at an old friends’ pad was an adventure. But what totally made my trip [next to the concert itself, of course] were my attempts at being Miss Independent. With friends who leave for work at 6 in the morning, you pretty much don’t have a choice. You have to learn to get your way around the great big city of Pasig—all the way to Pasay, where the concert was to be held.

Public utility vehicles and metro rail transits—hell, I RODE them all! And all by myself too, I might add. The rush of pride was so overwhelming that it took me every ounce of self-restraint to tap the commuter next to me and say, “Hey, congratulate me for traveling around Manila alone! And not getting lost too! And for doing all of these for the band I love most!”

The big day was June 15, 2004. The place was CCP Open Grounds. I arrived at 3 PM and was surprised to see a line already! I’m telling you, 3 hours of waiting [the gates opened at 6 PM] is no picnic, especially when your concert companions arrive at a later time because of school. But I endured the heat, the standing and the stench of bodies in close proximity with mine. Anyway, the level of excitement and delicious anticipation very much overpowered whatever discomfort I was feeling then.

Finally, the gates opened. I ran all the way to the front row, just behind the barricades which surrounded the stage. I was silent with reverential awe. My God. THIS is exactly what I’ve been dreaming of four years ago! To be in the front row, to be in communion with other fans and be at the mercy of the musical dynamo that was Linkin Park.

You’d think after hours of waiting, we’d be treated to a performance which would start on time, right? Wrong. The band came out at 8:30. And boy, just imagine the noise level turn several notches up when the [LINKIN PARK] backdrop was raised and the fog machines started. Even more so when Chester Bennington, Mike Shinoda, Brad Delson, Phoenix Farrell, Rob Bourdon and Joe Hahn emerged from the wings. Total pandemonium!

For 90 minutes, I screamed, sang, made my brother listen via cellphone, screamed, sang, took pictures with my trusty Nokia 7650, screamed, sang and behaved like the total fan that I was. Every song they played, from their independent album, to “Hybrid Theory” to “Reanimation” to “Meteora”, I sang along with each one and so did the audience. When they covered Nine Inch Nail's "Wish", I swear my head almost fell off my neck because of too much banging. It was a priceless treat to see the members of my favorite band in stunned appreciation to the unexpected crowd turnout. Oh man, do Filipinos rock hard or what! Among the crazy headbangers in the front area, Chester plucked out a lucky guy named Shingho and made him come up onstage. There, they did the climax of "A Place For My Head" which further upped the noise level of the already deafening crowd.

The band was very good in letting the crowd participate. Not that the pumped up Filipino audience needed any prodding. From the hard-rocking intro to "Don't Stay" till the last riff of "One Step Closer", the crowd participation level was impressive, which prompted Chester to say, "This is the best crowd we've ever played so far in this tour!"

The concert was short, yet I felt like I had been taken in an audible odyssey through all of their albums! There wasn’t a single mouth closed that night, not a single hand down, not a head staying still. Everyone was jumping, flashing horned hands and shouting to every song, it was almost surreal. Their delivery was impressive, they sounded exactly as they do in my CDs! After a solid performance, rapper Mike Shinoda thanked the crowd—in Tagalog.

I did not catch the used towels the band members threw to the audience after the show. I did not catch the water bottle Mike and Chester tossed out. I did not get Rob’s drumsticks, nor did I get Brad and Phoenix’s guitar picks. But I sure went home with something more than that—more than the sore throat and battered body which I had mentioned earlier. It was a different level of happiness, fulfillment and satisfaction—exactly what I came and aimed for.

Some might say fandom is a stupid waste of time, money and energy, but I digress. Being a fan entails heartfelt dedication, commitment and loyalty. To get what in return, you ask. Well, I don’t know exactly what tangible thing you can get out of it apart from souvenirs and whatnot, but I can tell you that the EUPHORIA and the MEMORIES that you’ll have will surely make fandom worth all your sacrificial efforts. Ask my friends. They’ll tell you that Pam is on the mother of all cloud nines because she did everything she can in realizing her dream to see her favorite band.

Better yet, ask me. I surely won’t mind reliving my experience to you, even if I get asked for the 48 millionth time.