A serendipitous story under stage lights

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Disclaimer

This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions.

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​Paul McCartney and I stood feet away under the cover of stars and stage lights. A chain of implausible coincidences led me to the second row of his sold-out show in Montevideo on October 1st. There was no time, however, to question this fantastical reality. So, I lived the serendipitous story as it was written. Now, a month later, I can finally tell it. 
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Valentina picked me up at 3:15 p.m. on the day of the concert. From the passenger seat of her car, I admired the countryside and montañitas de Pan de Azúcar. The spectacular view of rolling hills was more breathtaking when unobstructed by a bus windshield. Uruguay’s beauty continues to surprise me. Although I had traveled this path several times in the past, I was seeing it again with a new perspective. The Montevideo department border crossing was my platform 9 ¾ to an extraordinarily unforgettable evening. 

Valentina ignored the map’s navigation and took an atajo (shortcut) along La Rambla. We drove parallel to the famous walking path, which stretched for 22 kilometers and was reminiscent of the tree-sheltered bike path in Stillwater, Minnesota. Rows of meadow-green trees shaded the first stretch of the path. There is no clear start to La Rambla. It simply appears as if it were a part of the land.

We blasted Paul McCartney and Beatles songs for the whole trip. I did not know most of them, but I tuned into the sing-a-long of “Hey Jude” and “Eleanor Rigby.” Valentina and I swayed in our seats as the car swayed through intercity traffic. Valentina knew all the words to almost every song. As we wrapped around La Rambla, she told me that she saved her quinceñera gift money to go to her first McCartney concert. This once-in-a-lifetime Tuesday-night opportunity grew more intimate with Valentina’s stories. She was a superfan well-versed in the magic of witnessing Paul McCartney in concert. 

Uruguayans arrived uncharacteristically early to beat the lines around the Centenario Stadium. Valentina and I passed families in tour merchandise clutching their termos and slurping mate to keep warm in the cool night air. When we entered the stadium, I was overwhelmed by the view of the stage. Paul McCartney was a stoic star shimmering in the galactic magnifying screens. An impressive soundstage covered the campo (soccer field). I squealed, trying to soak up my first reactions to the stage in the iconic stadium. (Uruguay’s Centenario Stadium was the first to host the FIFA World Cup!). Each step further ignited my anticipation.  

Valentina and I walked around the standing-room section of the venue. We were determined to find the best vantage point on the stage. After settling in the far left corner of the section, two people with nametags and dressed in black approached us. They revealed that Paul McCartney was surprising some young fans with courtesy seat upgrades. Valentina and I were two of those lucky fans! The news came as unexpectedly as a Taylor Swift bridge. We erupted with fangirling babble. “How can this be happening?!” 

The representatives waved us through the security blockades until we reached the section of rows closest to the stage. The stage lights welcomed us into the VIP section in a navy blue haze. Valentina and I showed our new tickets to a young staff member who quickly escorted us to our seats in the second row. Yes, the second row! The fence that separated the audience from the stage was within arms reach. Everything —the stage, the opening Uruguayan musicians, the colorful hippie 60s-inspired backdrops— was crystal clear in my field of vision. 

Looking forward, I almost forgot I stood among over 60,000 people. The first few rows existed in their fanatic world. We, a lucky couple of dozen, tasted aristocracy in the presence of Uruguayan pop stars and former Argentinian presidents. The intimate immediacy was palpable. 

Thousands of recording phones greeted Paul when he came on stage. Valentina joined the crowd, grinning ear to ear. Paul McCartney’s realistic appearance confounded me. He is 82 years old, after all. But his stage presence was undeniably strong. He proved to be a timeless legend. 

Paul greeted the audience, “Hola Uruguayos” purposefully pronouncing “Uruguashos” in the local accent. He spoke the audience’s language. I did not know most of the songs he performed, but he spoke my languages too: English and nostalgia. I was immediately charmed by this former heartthrob and his thick British accent, grandpa dance moves, and tributes to George Harrison and John Lennon. 

 I belted the lyrics to the songs I knew. I swayed to the soothing rhythm of “Hey Jude” with my phone flashlight held high. I turned around and saw a sea of constellatory flashlights on the horizon of a hazy night sky. I jumped -- along with the sensitive erupting crowd around me -- when the final fire display boomed. Valentina and I could feel the heat of the fire on our faces. Thank goodness I remembered my earplugs. 
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The concert concluded with a plume of smoke and confetti in the colors of the Uruguayan flag: blue, white, and yellow. I picked three pieces out of the air with the giddy thrill of catching snowflakes on my tongue. The confetti is a memento of an unforgettable night. I carry them in my Italian-countryside-themed phone case. The memory of stage lights and stars is always within reach. Every time I touch them, I remember when a British sensation lit up the night sky of my little corner of the world.

​Thank you for the lights, Paul. Long may you shine.

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@journalofanevolvingteacher

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El camino es la recompensa. The way is the reward.