Up until last night, in all of my nearly 21 years, I had never attended a concert. I've had the pleasure of witnessing many DJs "spin", and some indie bands do their thing at small Toronto bars, but I had never attended one of those massive, pyrotechnic undertakings filled with the thousands of screaming fans of the headliners, who help define the music of a generation. Like I said, I hadn't been...until last night.

My great International Gypsy friend N surprised me a few days ago by inviting me to The Killers concert at The ACC. A friendship with one of the band members had developed through some of her New York exploits, and she was offered a few tickets for the show. Along for the ride were M and M, and after a few pre-drinks in the underground at Union Station and the lobby of the ACC (aka light vodka Rockstars- and was that N with a mickey of Finlandia?- ever-so-discretely sipped behind LCBO paper bags aka homeless styles), we settled into our seats- 4th row right-stage (did I get that right?). We ordered some drinks, danced the night away (WHY would you come to The Killers concert and sit in your seats the whole time? Really, some people boggle my mind), and belted out our fave tunes. The concert ended with my personal favorite, When You Were Young.

The night wasn't over yet though! N had also procured some backstage passes, and we hung out with the band backstage. Expecting a hardcore after-party, I was instead somewhat pleasantly surprised to find that the band members were...ummm...average? Hardly the "rockstars" I'd figured they would be. After some stiff drinks, exploration (the food table's "special order" was a box of Coffee Crisps which, according to one band member, do not exist in the U.S.), and generally hanging out backstage for a while, M and I left for a little drunken action at Andy Poolhall.  When we were young...