Fellow senior Davis Finke and I have been Bieber fans for a while, so we decided to go see the king of pop in person. To ensure we beat the blitz of Beliebers rushing into the concert, Finke and I left around 4:30 p.m., three hours before it started. We wandered around the Power and Light district and picked up a burger before heading into the Sprint Center. The atmosphere had electricity in the air.
We found our seats just before Post Malone came on stage to open for Bieber. Looking around, I found myself surrounded by a sea of Bieber Babes. I felt out of place, but like the chicks, I was there for Justin.
When Bieber finally appeared on stage, the crowd erupted and I was convinced the two little girls sitting next to me were about to cry. Post Malone did a great job on stage running around and keeping the audience’s attention, but he didn’t quite compare to what Bieber would soon bring.
Bieber was a nonstop show from when he first stepped on stage to when he walked off. One moment, he would be up dancing around with flashing neon lights in a cage and the next he’d be sitting down with an acoustic guitar. I think the transformation from one to the other was a crowd pleaser, and it definitely pleased me.
My favorite songs of the night were “Sorry” and “Home to Mama.” “Sorry” has been my favorite Bieber songs since I first heard it. As soon as I heard the song start, I yelped louder than the little girl next to me and let out a loud voice crack.
I wasn’t a huge fan of “Home to Mama” when I first heard it on the radio, but when Bieber sat down and whipped out his guitar, I felt like I was hearing something completely new. The way Bieber slowed down and sang to the crowd, seemed as if he was singing a lullaby before he tucked me into bed.
Bieber kept my attention the entire show with all his tricks and neither Finke nor I left our seats until he walked off stage. After each song he received a much deserved ear-throbbing ovation.
I left the Sprint Center around 10:30 p.m. incredibly satisfied with the show. Just when I thought the show was over, I saw a mob of babes mobbing Eric Hosmer in the streets. Finke and I together pushed our way through the sea and gave Hosmer a good luck pat. The night was memorable, touching Hosmer was the icing to the cake.
I stood in the massive line outside of the Sprint Center for about 30 minutes. Girls were checking me out left and right. Either it was because I was good looking, or because I was an 18-year-old guy at a Justin Bieber concert. I made my way through the sea of 12-year-olds, and managed to cut the constantly extending entry line. All the glares made me feel like a creep. Oh well, I was ready to see JB.
I walked to my seat, and screams filled the atmosphere to the point where I couldn’t hear a single thing. Justin came out in a cloud of smoke and self-confidence, and it almost made me erupt with excitement. It was so loud, and I was so captivated, that senior Ellis Nepstad had to yell my name directly into my ear to get my attention. Even then, we were unable to talk because of the high-pitched screams from the young girls – and from Ellis.
Ten seconds into the first song and I was taken away. Being a guy, I figured the concert would be pretty girly, considering about 95 percent of Sprint Center was filled with teenage girls. But to my surprise, the performance was actually enjoyable, not just because of all the girls, but because the man has talent.
Each individual song had its own draw. Whether he was throwing down some impressive dance moves, or taking it to the acoustic guitar, he was straight killing it. At one point, a massive cage descended from the ceiling and landed around Bieber. The cage emitted spectacular light shows while he sang and danced from the inside. If only I could’ve been inside there with him.
As the show went on, more and more visual aids were brought out, not to mention the visual aids that were seated next to me. All around the audience, women of all ages were having the time of their lives. There were middle aged women singing every word in perfect harmony, along with 12-year-olds twerking in a manner that would make their fathers cringe.
Towards the end of the performance, he began to do flips on a massive trampoline that was suspended over the audience, while simultaneously singing. During his last song, “Sorry,” he was doused by a waterfall, and sang while being drenched. Not saying I couldn’t do that either, but it was still impressive. Prior to the concert, I thought it would be a total bust. Instead, I found myself singing “Sorry” in my shower, visioning myself on a stage with thousands of girls screaming my name.