Rock itself

I’ve always thought there are some bands you must see before leaving this world and I’m quite sure I’m not making a mistake when I say The Rolling Stones are one of them. Last year I heard an excellent news on the radio: The Stones were coming to Chile. So, as a human being, aware about my unavoidable death, I instantly decided to buy the tickets before it was too late.

February 3rd was the big day and The National Stadium was the place, so there I was at 5 pm just when the sun was shining, the public were anxious and the waiting line was so crowded that instead calling it a “line” I should try just “people”.

After “the waiting people” had actually “lined” up we all entered the Stadium. Inside the gates the generalized feeling was strong: there were all kind of rock references stamped in T-shirts, crazy people singing (even before the music had began) and a big group of argentinians. Then, when the music started and the tension was finally broken we could really enjoy rock itself, in its most pure state.

Everything was perfect, except for one small fight I got involved in the middle of; I mean literally in the middle of, between the two fighters and by small fight I mean an argue finished in a one-punch attack. But I don’t know: maybe it was the rock itself.