The strobe lights flashed in a frantic, seizure-inducing tempo in tune with the thrumming bass, and the sea of people was a black, shapeless mass occasionally lit up to reveal elated faces.
I shouldered my way through the crowd, right at the base of the center stage. I was a bit overdressed with my suit and tie, but I hadn't initially planned on being there. We were supposed to go to the opera, my friend Zane and I. But then I passed by the concert hall for H.I.P. (a.k.a Human Instrumentality Project) and I had to get a ticket. I think Zane understood.
Blinding lights and geysers of smoke accompanied the final act of the Korean pop band as they sauntered up and down the several catwalks that jutted out from the main stage and put them right above the crazed fans. Their outfits were sparkly black bodysuits that glittered like fireworks under the stage lights and made them look like part of the special effects ensemble.
The cheering was almost as loud as the music. Almost. Men as well as women jumped up and down, waving glow sticks as H.I.P. members passed them from a stone's throw away. I bumped into a chubby guy with glasses and he gave me a strange look, probably wondering why I was so dressed up, and then returned his gaze to the women above. I flinched when he screamed his adoration upwards and nearly burst my eardrum.
The girls glittered under the lights as they sashayed through walls of smoke and a sea of colors. It was epic, with a constant bombardment of senses as they went up and down each catwalk, moving their legs in prim and calculated steps. This act was very different from their usual; it was more edgy, a little more electronic, and honestly, a bit erotic. Usually their acts were girly and colorful, but not tonight. I did not like the strange arousal I felt; it was like their act was a vindication of all the impure thoughts that my have crossed fans' heads up until now.
I mean, there weren't
that
many thoughts.
*****
I stood outside later, trying to get a hold of Zane. He was not picking up and it was hard to even hear his voicemail message over the roar of people outside. Even though I had made my way to the exit before the last Instrumentality Project girl was off the stage, there was still a giant crowd outside, no doubt awaiting the group's departure to their tour bus. It was parked not too far away, with an armada of black cars flanking it. Alongside the vehicle was a silver glittering poster depicting the visage of all seven girls, grinning and less sultry than what I had just seen on stage. Some of them looked almost like completely different people. Especially Catherine, one of the band's forefront members, who tonight suddenly looked like a downright dominatrix, but printed on the side of the bus appeared in her usual sweet-and-bubbly countenance. Then there were others that were recognizable on the spot, like MiHyun, who couldn't hide her thin, expressionless mouth or her elfish ears poking out of her long hair, no matter what her makeup or wardrobe was. And then there was Dae, the oldest, who usually rocked a shoulder-length haircut and had the air of a sensuous and self-assured leader-figure, always pursing her lips in a sly and knowing smile. She was my favorite.
Okay, I admit it, I have a favorite. I guess I am in deep enough to be considered a fan. As if showing up to a monumental concert in their hometown wasn't "fan" enough, even if that itself was incidental.
I think self-consciousness was actually the reason I dipped out early. I'd never be the first to publicly admit being a huge follower of H.I.P., despite their obvious male fanbase. Nevertheless, I felt embarrassed there. It's like beating off and then discovering how ridiculous you are, standing there naked with a mess in front of you and some crazy shit on your computer monitor.
Not that I've done that. In fact, I don't even like mentioning H.I.P. and masturbation in the same sentence. I don't even want to think about it. Let's pretend the two weren't just associated.
So I was standing right at the tail-end of the bus, typing a message to Zane, when the roar of the fans grew a few decibels. I looked up and saw people pour forward like a tide. And then a string of impeccably-dressed men came from the auditorium and filed towards me, motioning at the crowd and clearing a path for where the girls would no doubt come through. The men were not uniformly dressed, but most of them wore a black three-piece suit and tie, not looking too far off from the cliché men-in-black trope. There were a few in brown blazers, maybe managers or some other higher-ups. A black man, standing out from the crowd, eased down the line wearing a casual open sport coat. He hollered at a guy with a camera who was stepping into the cleared area to line up a shot.
I looked back down at my phone to finish my message, but the people on either side of me were jostling me now. A guy to my left straight plowed into me so he could see, and I dropped my phone. The look on his face was priceless. I may have been scowling; he sure did piss me off, but he was scared right then as he looked me up and down and assessed from my suit that I must not one to be messed with. With an embarrassed tremble, he nodded to me and I picked up my phone and resumed my text message.
Another roar came. And camera flashes this time. I hit "send" and put my phone away as two of the H.I.P. members hurried down the line. I recognized Dae right away. The other one was SoYun, who had short hair like her but not nearly the same presence. They were out of their get-ups and back into street clothes, Dae wearing super-short black shorts and a frilly blouse, and SoYun wearing slacks and a similar, airy top. Even dressed down, they looked fabulous.
The crowd went nuts, as if the Pope had just appeared, and the girls walked the line. SoYun stared straight ahead and looked sort of zoned out, though there was a faint smile on her face, probably a polite, pre-programmed one. Dae, though, was wearing a legit smirk, and she scanned the crowd casually as she made for the bus, Then they both disappeared into the vehicle and the crowd died down again.
It was a couple minutes before the next group came through. This time it was three girls, dressed even more casual. The crowd didn't react any less excited, though. In fact, they were even more rambunctious now, maybe because there were three group members instead of two. The guy who had bumped into me early shuffled around me and jumped up and down to try and get a picture. I guess he got a little too close, because one of the entourage further down hollered at him with a legitimately angry face. The boy didn't seem to care, though, and stayed his ground. Another shout came, and I looked right in the man's face as he beamed his evil eyes over the boy's head straight at me.
I flinched, wondering if I was overstepping some boundary I wasn't aware of, but the boy turned around and looked at me with another fearful glance, and then shuffled to the right to distance himself from the street. The girls passed by then, and stepped up into bus without a glancing at anybody. The boy kept his distance from me after that. In fact, most of the people did. I checked my phone again, but Zane hadn't responded. The last two girls came down the sidewalk and entered the bus. Catherine, was there, strutting in a stylish leather jacket that kind of showed-up her band-mates. She was very animated, grinning and waving to the crowd. She was last on the bus, and she gave one last farewell, and she even looked at me for a second. Should you ever experience the tiny jolt of being merely acknowledged by a gorgeous celebrity in a way that might delude you to even entertain the thought of being in their company like normal people, I should warn you that it's a quick thrill with a quick downer. I had my moment of equality with the famous Catherine and then watched her depart with the sober acceptance of reality. It was time to resume normal life now.
The crowd was much less willing to accept this reality. Instead, they spun into a fury on the side of the street, as if their shouts could somehow rouse one of the band members from outside of their moving fort.
I had had all the spectacle I needed. Zane hadn't responded to my text, so I figured I'd walk through Olympic Park towards the river to blow some time. To my right, the sea of people didn't let up. I stepped onto the street and sidled in between the bus and the crowd, on my way to the west end of the park.
I stepped carefully, worried about tripping on the curb and face-planting in front of all those people. The onlookers gave me a wide berth as I passed by, however, making sure not to block my way. Even still, there was only a few feet of clearance between the bus and the crowd, and I had to shift my body sideways to make it through in some spots.
One of the guards was standing by the entrance to the bus. The doors were still open, and the man blocked anybody from seeing even the driver. As I neared him, he payed no notice to me, too focused on the people before him. There was no way around, barely inches between him and the others.
I made an attempt to shuffle in front of him, hoping he'd notice me and step back, but I was not assertive enough. I sort of bounced on my feet beside him, looking for an opening. Things were getting increasingly awkward. It sure didn't help my self-consciousness.
The man snapped a glance at me and shouted something at me in Korean. I'm partially fluent—okay, really rusty; I haven't spoken Korean in a long time—but the man spoke so fast and so...
angrily
, that I sort of just stood there moving my mouth, trying to form words.
