#hansonconcert

[taylsaazac-blog]

@Regrann from @hansonconnect - "Deeper," "With You In Your Dreams," and "Minute Without You" in Hamburg 🇩🇪 #MOETour #MOEWorldTour #MiddleofEverywhereWorldTour #MiddleofEverywhereTour #HANSON25 • • • • #Repost @lofaba 📸 (@get_repost) ・・・ @hanson i Hamborg 😍 #mmmbopingsince97 #hansonconcert #hanson #fan #cometodenmark

[taylsaazac-blog]

@Regrann from @sarahhenniger - Hanson! @hanson @taylorhansonmusic @zachansonmusic @cisaachanson #hanson #moetour #middleofeverywhere #köln #cologne #gloriatheater #mmmbop #taylorhanson #zachanson #isaachanson #talent #music #tulsa #oklahoma #concert #hansonconcert #hansoncologne

[pursuing-pizza]

Flashback to 9-30-09 : Getting to dance and hangout with @itshellogoodbye during a @hanson concert at the @cainsballroom! Such a great memory! • "You won't be leaving my arms..ever. I promise you that." • • • • #hellogoodbye #forrestkline #thecainsballroom #hansonconcert #tulsaoklahoma #2009 #youngme (at Cain's Ballroom) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoZRbwFHQeF/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1m5zd2kj4l0q0

[druginmyvein]

Round two!! This time with some more awesome ladies!! #concert #houseofblues #fansons #hansonconcert (at House of Blues Anaheim)

[sureofcourse]

Winter edition #1 | MMMBopping late on a school night

“What’s SNID 89?” I asked my other 30-something friends as we entered a Perth Club I had never even been inside at an age when it was considered acceptable.

As I approached the entry door, I could see security and their stamp production line – and, as only someone who is clearly way beyond 18 does, I got excited they were going to ID check me.

But then excitement immediately turned to confusion…

“You’re reading it upside down,” one of my friends laughed. “It says 18 plus.”

That was the beginning of what we realised was how 30+ women ‘rock out’ – the curious commentary can be just as entertaining as the event itself.

We had bought tickets months earlier to the quintessential concert for our age group.

#teamtaylor

The room was full of like-minded 30-something women reliving their 13-year-old selves with a few notable differences.

Beverages

Self-service water jugs scattered along the bar were constantly being replaced by staff. The club had probably never served so much water in its lifetime.

And while we were all making sure to ‘stay hydrated’ in anticipation of the next few hours of dancing and sing-a-longs, one of our sensible squad members was kind to warn: “you’re going to need to wee so be careful…space out your water”.

Support acts

They are a deterrent to 30-somethings attending concerts, period.

We don’t need to be pepped up, we need to stay awake for the main act.

It’s amazing how only a decade later and you can go from leaving your house at 10pm earliest for a night out to requiring an afternoon nap in preparation for staying up ‘so late’.

While we clapped the support act with more vigour at 8.30pm for simply being over and hopefully getting Hanson on quicker, we watched the stage guys set up and wondered how long they’d make us wait.

“What time are they supposed to be on?” I asked.

“Not sure, probably 9pm.”

“9pm! So late. We’re in our 30s, don’t make us wait.”

Moshing? Dancing?…Moving

“I think I’ve done something to my knee,” I said to anyone who would listen, which was no one because the reality was we were all ‘adding injury’ to any body part we were moving beyond the three-hour mark.

And when the trio with their now ‘dad bods’ said their next song was to get us “all fired up like we didn’t want to go home”, even the bubbliest 30-something in our squad yelled back: “yeah! But a little bit we want to go home”.

Play an encore, just don’t go backstage to make us wait again for you to come back on

Don’t let the zombie look fool you. It was one of the most fun concerts of my 30s so far but, at some point throughout the night, your body kind of shuts down so you stand still, stare at the band and put all of your energy into the only remaining sense – your hearing.

As soon as the last note was played, the entire room clambered up the stairs, clinging to the railings as though someone had rung the fire alarm.

The next morning, my feet burned in the way I imagined they should have had I crossed a desert without shoes on – not as a result of one late night.

I tried to scrub off the door stamp, wondering if clubs had upgraded their ink and would I have a ‘SNID 89’ tattoo forevermore?

Either way, venues probably don’t need to refill their stamp pads for 30+ concerts any time soon.