Burkhalter 1

Cheyanne Burkhalter
Ms. Albrecht
Advanced Composition
8/22/2014
Concert Cry Babies
It's hot, but the sun is going down over the Tinley Park venue. Warped Tour is still
buzzing, and doesn't seem like it's going to end anytime soon. My friend Haley and I stand in a
long, looping, crooked line, pressed against many anxious, and excited bodies. Employees walk
up and down the line shouting for us to get into single file, but come on, we're not
kindergarteners. As we ignore the workers, Haley and I bounce on the balls of our feet in
anticipation. My breath is coming out short and labored; Haley is almost crying. I clutch my hat,
and I can't believe that I'm actually standing here among all these people to meet one person.
Then again, this one person is pretty fabulous. Behind me stands a boy in galaxy leggings, and
pink go-go boots. I kid you not. I get more, and more surprises every time I visit this venue. He
is also alight with excitement.
Suddenly, Haley yanks on my t-shirt, and I look back at her. She is standing on the tips of
her toes, a smile on her round face, blue eyes sparking with recognition. "I SEE HIM. I SEE
HIM!"
I jump at her words, and start doing the same as she is, but all I can see is the tale-tell sign of
pink hair from the back. I slump in disappointment. "All I could see was his hair," I pout.
Haley laughs, and takes a step forward as the line moves up a foot. We're halfway there,
and I can feel my heart jump in my chest as my nerves rise up again. Is this really happening?

"Ugh, he's so pretty," Haley groans. I smile, and nod in agreement.
Burkhalter 2

After what feels like forever, we're towards the front of the line, and now we're both
shaking. The bodyguard tells us that we're allowed one picture, and one photograph. As the
people in front of us go forwards, we finally get a clear view. Under the tent stands a tall man
with pink and purple hair. His face is covered in makeup, and a pang of jealousy hits me as I
realize a dude in tight pants and platform shoes can contour his face, and apply lipstick better
than I can. I push it away as we get nearer, and were one person away. Haley goes first. I give
her my phone to take a picture because hers died at least an hour ago. With a smile, she hands
the bodyguard my phone with the camera open. With a bright smile, she greets the man with the
pink hair with a tight hug, and then they pose for a picture. Of course, he pouts his lips, and puts
a hand on his hip. Then he uses his sharpie to sign Haleys backpack, and its my turn. Haley
bounces past me with a bright grin, her blond hair flouncing wildly as she exits.
With a deep breath, I shuffled under the tent, and the man with the pink hair beamed at
me. I like your hair, He complements.
T-thanks, I stutter, adding a quick, bashful smile. I like yours, too. Then I shyly hold
my hat out. Thanks social anxiety. C-could you sign my hat? He nods, and takes my hat. With
a quick swish, and practiced flick of his wrist, on the bill there is now a J and star resting in the
corner of it. I take it back, and then we pose for a picture. I thank him, and then the bodyguard
hands me my phone back. He grins, and I smile back as I quickly spot Haley standing off to the
side, her eyes wide, and her smile seemingly glowing. Hurriedly, I stumble over to her, and find I
can finally breath now that I am out of the tent.

I NEED TO SIT DOWN! Haley nearly shrieks.
Burkhalter 3
Breathless, I agree. Me too. Without another word we both collapse onto the asphalt,
and sit criss-cross-applesauce. Our nerves are shot. Social activity is not our thing to begin with,
and meeting one of our idols definitely did not help.

That was incredible! Haley squeals with her head in her hands. We just met him! I
cant believe we just met him! HE CALLED ME BABE.

HE SAID HE LIKED MY HAIR. Then I clutched my hat, and laughed. I cant believe
you almost cried, and that I almost had a panic attack.

Haley chuckles, and lifts her head up. I can, Chey. We just met Jeffree Star, after all.

For sure, this is definitely an encounter I am never going to forget, but I acted like such a
fangirl. Lord, please help me. . . .