“Diary Entry: 10/23/24 – Brat“

We opened the night with dinner with friends at Ramp in Mission Bay. They are “a jack of all treats but a master of none” type of restaurant. Among the four of us, we had three different dishes, each less memorable than the last. We didn’t come here for the bland food. I don’t think anyone would come here for the food. The restaurant was packed with concertgoers, being that it was a five-minute walk to the stadium. Who needs outstanding food when you have a prime location?

The restaurant was a peek at the fellow brats’ fits. People didn’t come to play. I love how the dress code was never spoken of but understood. With excitement governing me, I partially slid to the security line to go through the ritual of proving I was no threat. I have been to a Chase stadium before; I saw Megan the Stellion just a few months ago, and getting through security had no hiccups because I have engraved the regulations in me. The rules for Chase Stadium are no different from those of any other large venue. No water bottle, no pepper spray, and nothing in our pocket when walking through the metal detector. But this time around, I was met with a menacing smile, brought that day to knock me down a peg. The security didn’t even check inside my bag before blocking my entry. She claimed my bag was too big. She plots my bag on the message mat in a way that pushes it slightly over the approved line. When she said she could not approve my entry, with her smile so firm, I smelled bullshit. I tried to ensure her that the bag did fit and that I had brought this same bag to this same stadium not even a year ago, but my protest was met with dead ears. With disbelief, I watched her smile grow three times bigger while telling me I could either take my bag back to my car or check it around the corner at coat check.

I almost believed her, for what could she have against me? But I was sure I would forget to get my bag afterward. I moved to the line three rows back from the smiling security guard and got through with no problem. I wanted to walk past her, grinning with my bag swing, but I didn’t have time to be petty. My friends and I wanted to check the merch before the show started. The B-plot of the evening was obtaining a sought-after water bottle with the tour name on it. I didn’t want it; I have more water bottles than limes, so I got an overpriced tank top as my keepsake.

Even with minor bumps, I would say the night was a success. I saw Charli perform in the biggest stadium yet. I was there when she gathered a crowd of 50; now, she is performing in front of thousands. I believe Chalie got this being because she is an amazing storyteller. Her performance energy is essential to the story she wants to show. Her music has changed throughout the years, but it has always felt like her and not some man-made machine.