Somewhat against my intentions I was dragged to 'Night of the Proms' last night. I use the word 'dragged' but I had no intention whatsoever to spend an evening mostly driving to and back from Antwerp to sit in a really uncomfortable chair to listen how have-been pop stars and a mediocre orchestra ruined some of the previous centuries' greatest music, all this hosted by C who's name I'd rather not mention, let alone pay for it. However it seems my mother knows someone who's daughter works for a guy who knows someone that could get us free seats. My sister being inconvenienced by a boyfriend emergency, I was gently ushered into the car and later on into the Sportpaleis. The whole music and show element of the evening turned out more enjoyable than I dared venture, now however comes the point of my little rambling.
Us being non-paying guests and also not so very important. We got to wait and enjoy the pause and the after-show drinks in the not-so VIP lounge. Incidentally placed between the backstage entrance and the very VIP lounge. Bold as I sometimes dare think myself, I ventured through the gate of paradise on earth aka the artist lounge backstage, having set myself the task of returning home with at least one autograph. Ed Kowalczyk and Sinéad O'Connor being by far the two most interesting performers that evening (or at least in my perception), entering seemed not a problem, however where to find them by lack of One Ring? And which of the two to address once located because chatting with one would inevitable reduce my chances when asking the next. And while I was doubting I became the girl that was flirting* with the head of security. It only goes to show you shouldn't ask a guy for his opinion.
* I suppose it was flirting, it went something like this: smile, chat, show cleavage, tell joke, laugh at his sexist remark, picturing myself spanking him with nail-improved hippopotamus leather whips, show more cleavage, smile and be interrupted by my dad who wanted us to proceed home.
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