Twitter ∞ Dan Howell

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Okay, I told myself. This is fine. Really. You're fine. Don't panic. Don't fucking Panic. Pan!c at the Disco. What?

I shook my head, shifting where I stood in front of the mirror. I was never really one for taking long lengths of time to admire myself in the floor-length, shitty old mirror by the back wall, because I never tended to feel very good about what I saw. I still didn't, not today, but I cared a lot more about it than usual.

Because I was meeting Dan Howell.

Just thinking about it nearly brought about a round of stomach-ejecting, fits of violent asthma and wheezing screams. I don't think I'd been so nervous about something in my entire life. Except perhaps the one time I was switching dance partners at the grade-6 hoedown and Jeremy Baker was about to slide into my sweaty-palmed, BO-radiating arms.

Oh God, what if I've got BO when I meet Dan? Fuck. Fuck fuck. More deodorant.

I lifted my shirt and shot some unnecessary Rexona 'Sexy Bouquet'(seriously Rexona? How can flowers be sexy?) deodorant into the crook in my arm. I looked back at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't look great. I'd put a bit of effort, doing something mildly entertaining with my choppy hair. I'd even dived into the murky depths of make-up, which was really a rare occurrence for me.

Feeling the onslaught of a potential mental breakdown pressing against the front of my head, I let out a long breath and grabbed my bag from beside my bed and headed out of my dorm. The worst part about this whole thing was that I had no one to go with. Apparently being 19 and essentially a functioning adult meant you couldn't like this kind of stuff anymore. Most of my uni friends had no idea who Dan and Phil even were when I brought them up.

So I sat on a bus with no one but myself, which I was glad for, in many ways, because it meant I could sit and blast some shitty 90s hits and talk to nobody. I watched the world pass outside the glass - it had been raining, so colours were drawn out in slow dribbles, faces unrecognisable washes of blank eyes and mops of hair. I tapped my foot on the floor and I tried to think of what I would say, knowing that it wouldn't matter because I'll go completely blank in that moment.

I stood as the bus was shuddering to a stop outside the theatre, my ticket clutched in one hand, gripping the strap of my bag with the other. I called out a small thank you to the bus driver and hopped off the bus, letting out a breath as I looked up to figure out where I was. I hadn't been around this part of Adelaide much before, so I wasn't entirely sure where to go.

I looked both ways and saw nothing substantial in the way of landmarks, but two girls wearing mostly black with brightly coloured hair giggled as they talked and made their way down the path, which I took as more or less of a sign that I was in the right place. I subtly slipped into a fast walk behind them, following the trudge of their docs up the stairs, up into a building with big glass doors and brass handrails (soz I literally know nothing about Adelaide, so this is me making shit up).

My hair was in my face, so I looked up and through it I saw swarms of girls milling around the front entrance. I brushed my hair from my eyes, and suddenly this was so overwhelming. I clutched my ticket tighter.

I lined up behind the girls at the entrance way, handing my ticket over to a lady who smiled politely and placed a paper wristband around my arm. A security guard nodded me over to the side, where the two I was following earlier had disappeared into.

I took a big breath. I walked through, flashing my wristband at the guard, who smiled and nodded me through. Inside the room was big, but not anything like I imagined - square, with black curtains on the walls, and masking tape bordering the floor (again, will be based off my aussie VIP experience which was not Adelaide lel).