Unsuspecting Dreamer

Chapter 7 Discovery

I don't know what I am doing. I roamed around in California for the last couple of weeks, sticking close to Santa Rosa. I bought a ticket for the pit. I'm going to see him tonight, I am so excited. California has been a good place to relax, but now I'm ready to move on. After the concert I'm planning on rolling on to the Grand Canyon. It holds a special place in my journey; it's where my dad proposed to my mom.

I take one last look around my motel room- nothing is left behind. I've always loved fairs, but I've never been to one outside of Minnesota.

I find my way to the site via GPS and the snail-pace line of cars going where I am. Parking is a beast. I think I might sleep in the van tonight so I don't have to deal with getting out of here.

I pull out my computer-printed tickets and double check I have what I need. The nice thing about fairs is that no one looks at you weird for being an adult who walks around by yourself with a backpack.

Wandering around, I've got 7 hours and there is a lot to see. I get lost in the antiques displays, but I make sure to leave enough time to get to the stage. I want a spot up front. I've been waiting for this since the first time I found out who Hunter Hayes was.

I give my ticket to the attendant. The crowd is pushing from behind. My ticket stub is passed back and I hurry along. The pit is already teaming with people, mostly younger girls all showing off their new HH merchandise.

It's not difficult working my way up to the front. Again, being by myself is a strength. I don't take up much room. The energy is amazing; everyone is excited, milling around. I reach the barricade and grip the medal bars. I check my watch. Only 20 minutes to go.

This is an interesting setting; there are so many characters, so many stories. I can barley resist ripping out my notebook and starting to observe.

A couple of girls standing near me, who look 16 or so, are going on about Hunter. They even made a sign. A guy pushes next to me, pulling a girl behind him.

"This is the best gift ever!" She exclaims. "You completely surprised me."

"Anything for you, babe," he says, wrapping his arm around her.

I am touched by the sweet gesture. All of a sudden being alone is just to hard. Not easy, not a strength. I'm done people watching. I stare at my feet and try not to cry. I'm wearing makeup for the first time since I left Seattle, but no one cares what I look like so this is all for me. And I wanted to feel special; now I am regretting it. Tears will not fall.

Finally the music starts. Everyone calms down for a split second before the buzz of the crowd almost drowns out the sound of the instruments, but the beat of the bass can be felt through the ground, through the barricade, through the other people in the crowd. We are all packed in so tight.

The opening act is amazing. I always feel bad for openers and closers at concerts. All the attention is on the main event. It's like the forward of a book; I always try to read it but I can never keep my attention on it. I need to get to the much- anticipated book.

Almost an hour later my knees hurt a little from standing, I shift around.

Hunter's band is setting up. Music plays over the speakers 'Happy' by Pharrell Williams. It is such a fun song, if not a bit overplayed. Everyone is singing along and some are dancing. Then without warning the lights die. A collective gasp sounds out as we see darker silhouettes running out over the dark stage. Now everyone's screaming. I resist the urge to cover my ears.

Bright lights explode to the sound of the music and HE comes running out. The screams in the audience reach an all-time high.

'Storyline' I recognize as the tune. Driving around for a month and a half has given me the chance to memorize every song I own. I am pressed against the barricade as people push to get closer, screaming and reaching for the stage.

'Maybe I should have gotten a seat instead,' I think as someone steps on my foot. I move my mind past it, immersing myself in the music.

Hunter's energy is ridiculous. He's playing, singing, running, jumping, waving. 'Maybe he's a robot; he can jump super high. How does he not fall?' I wonder.

When he gets to 'Flashlight' everything slows down. He actually stands still. Emotion ebbs from the performance and he connects with the audience in a way that I can only dream. I want people to react to me, to be moved by my words.

I close my eyes and take it all in. When 'More Than I Should' comes up a few songs later I am reminded of my love for the song; hearing it live makes me love it even more. The power and the anger just speaks to me.

He makes a speech about "being yourself" before he sits down and plays 'Love Too Much,' 'Invisible,' and 'Wanted' on the piano. By the end I don't think there's a dry eye in the audience.

I can't help thinking about my mom, my mom, and oh yeah my mom. More than anything I just want someone to love, and someone to love me.

It's amazing how emotionally drained I am. Tonight was supposed to be fun- another check off my list. But it's left me so tired. When he stands up again I draw in my breath. I should let someone else take my spot; I've already seen him close up. Closer even. I look up at the stage one last time.

Suddenly I'm locked in place. His blue eyes are looking right at me, or at least in my direction; it's hard to tell at this distance. But, I think he pauses, just for a second. Then he's grabbing a guitar from a stagehand and he's back to the music.

Now I'm stuck. I couldn't move if I wanted to. I am completely dazed, and if I'm not mistaken, blushing. That was humiliating; if he see me... If he did recognize me he'd remember how I looked with coffee and blood covering my ugly uniform, my lank hair and raccoon eyes.

I reassure myself, 'there's no way he'd remember me. I'm standing in a group of screaming people- mostly girls. More likely he was reading some sign held up over my head behind me.' Okay, I'm over myself. As 'I want Crazy' begins I even sing along and smile, tapping my foot in time with the beat.

After his encore, and the last strains of 'Storm Warning' fade, the cheers take over, overwhelming all thought.

I decide to wait a while and let the crowd thin before I go; I am in no hurry. But instead of people leaving, they press closer. I'm confused until I see Hunter climb down into the area between the barricades. I take an involuntary step backwards, not that it helps. I'm trapped, pinned between the bars and the fans.

Hunter is walking down the front of the crowd, signing things and taking pictures. I should have anticipated this. I should have left when I had the chance.

'He won't remember me, I'm just another fan. He won't remember me, I'm just another fan.' I tell myself, trying to calm down.

I look down at the ground in front of the medal barriers. Maybe he won't stop; he'll just keep going. Something blocks my view. I force myself to look up.

"Hi," he is looking right at me. I can feel my palms start to sweat, my face turning red. "I think we've met before, right?"

I nod. He points at the phone locked in my hand that I was using to take pictures. "Selfie?" he asks. I just want him to move on- leave me in my awkward stupor. I pass him my phone and he holds it out as I attempt to look excited, to smile. In a quick gesture he checks the picture and returns the phone to my hand.

"I didn't catch your name," he hints.

I clear my throat. "El... Ellie," I stammer.

"Nice to see you again," he says, and moves on.

The whole process probably took 30 seconds, but it felt like a year. At least now I am pretty sure he didn't remember where he knew me from.

Now the crowd on the far side starts to shift and leave. I move along with them; slowly, we exit. Finally, I am in an open space. The night feels crisp and refreshing on my arms, I find a bench and decide to sit for a while. Resting my legs and feet. Who knew it hurt to stand still for 3 and a half hours?