I went to Enrique Iglesias’ concert last Saturday.
I almost didn’t get to go, but then God was like “I rule more than anything/anyone else and I say you can go so get your ass in there woman.”
I had been feeling weird about this concert. For over two months I wanted to buy a ticket, but I kept ‘buying it tomorrow’ until the week of the concert came up. I had never in my life bought a ticket on a Monday for a concert Saturday. Friday I began to feel something… I can’t put my finger on it, but I had a lot of thoughts along the lines of “what if I don’t get to go”. I remember clearly, on Saturday at three o’clock in the afternoon thinking something didn’t felt right. Note to self: NEVER IGNORE YOUR GUT FEELINGS because it can mean that by six in the evening that day you might find yourself on the way to a concert without your drivers license, your credit card, the license of your car, your health insurance card and most importantly; without your sanity.
I lost my wallet on the way to the concert, somehow, when I went to get my tickets in a mall from a machine that wasn’t there since 2008.
I honestly have no idea what happened because I didn’t use my wallet, but there I was; an hour before the concert, without my ticket and with only a little plastic box full of about six dollars in quarters that I had thrown into my purse to pay the tolls on the way. I’ll never forget the physical response I had when I was searching my SUV, DEA style (seriously I was ripping that bitch apart, sans the saw) and it dawned on me that my wallet REALLY wasn’t there. All my pores dilated and I’m pretty sure I almost had a heart attack.
It was laughing or crying. Or even better, the fight response!
This is when my stubbornness kicked in. Call it that or resilience, but I have this chip that in certain situations doesn’t let me give up. I don’t know exactly who I got this trait from, but I’m sure there’s someone in my family tree that kept banging their head with the door until it either broke or opened.
No one at the ticket company wanted to compromise on assuring me I could get my ticket, I could be anyone trying to steal a ticket from someone else. Wha? Whatever Ticket Company, I was demonstrating my love for Enrique Iglesias by wanting to go see him after loosing my BANK CARD and having only spare change in my pockets; that should’ve been enough for you.
So after I went back to the mall to leave my info on the ‘security office’ (it looked more like a snack room) I went back to the train station and, counting my change I paid my trip to the venue. There I talked to a ticket person, presented her with my work ID because it was the only thing that had my photo and name on it. She believed me because I was the picture of someone that looses their wallet; I was breathless, my hair was disheveled, my clothes were tugged to one side. Well, I could’ve also been someone who had sex on the train.
There’s something about loosing a bank card that throws you off the I’m A Responsible Adult *triumphant fist in air* throne. I was expecting people to interrogate me, make me explain stuff that I couldn’t, maybe call the police and threaten to arrest me, so I was thinking how could I sound like a normal person who had no proof of identity. It was really hard, I don’t know how Jason Bourne did it.
And then she gave me my ticket and told me to ‘enjoy the show’. And dudes, I sang and danced and screamed as if I wasn’t missing anything. Maybe because I actually had all I needed with me all along.
Edited 2/05/11 PS: Apparently people are getting here to know about Enrique Iglesias-The Concert: Well people, he was DELIGHTFUL. And awesome. And VERY pretty. And when he said “No hay nada mejor que una buena mamá” he was my friend instantly and forever. The music was great, and Wisin y Yandel rocked it. I think Pitbull exploded the stage though. There.