Sa wakas: The Killers live in Manila

The Killers have created such a significant impact in my life. I can't even begin to explain my love - you just can never go wrong with them. Their music attributes the right words that cater to one's emotions, narrowing down all feelings into a harmony, into a network of sounds that invade the ears, reverberating into the soul. I can distinctly remember going into particular day, and getting off at a bad start. Nerves were all over the place. Anxiety at its worst. It was a long drive to Manila, and I was scared. But in my ears, I was hearing the hypnotic drawl of synthesizers: "Everything will be all right". I was hooked headfirst into the mantra, and for a while after that, everything else did seem to work into cohesion. Summer '12 was all about Brandon Flowers' Flamingo, which always says something different to me whenever I put it on. But most recent is the series of flashbulb memories of last school year's remainder that surface every time a Battle Born track comes on. Battle Born, to me, is a life's theme; a manifestation of my life away from home, feeding on fast food, taking shelter next to the slums, trying to push through with goals that I wanted to deserve. It runs deep like that. So, The Killers live in Manila. I had to be there.

Where are all the people?!

I'm not going to lie: I had my uncertainties. Truth be told, on the morning of September 26, I told myself that I was not going to the Killers concert. Imagine telling that to yourself after a lifetime of waiting. I had my reasons: I had zero sleep the night before, working on my En 12 paper, which I didn't get to finish even then. Plus, I had six papers due the following week. Plus, there is the issue of money, and the fact that I was running out of it. I had everything lined up in my schedule that there simply was no room for anything else.

And after fighting back sleep in Ma 1, I was going home to call it a day - when I had an epiphany: Where's the fun in all this? Did I really sign up for a semester of pure superego? Do I intend to do that for the rest of my academic career? After consulting with people (i.e., Arnold, who is all id as far as Sigmund Freud is concerned), I finally decided that I was going to do it. I was going to see The Killers live at Smart Araneta. Fuck sleep - I can sleep when I'm dead. Hashtag yolo! So, after class, I called Bet up, marched to the coliseum, and to the best of our abilities, pulled off two gen ads. And, because we got in early, we had the privilege of sitting directly behind the barricade, directly in front of the stage, which was actually not bad - save for the fact that we were also directly under the air conditioner, freezing our asses off.



Sandwich opened. I don't follow their music, but god, I swear, that first song was love. I have no idea what it's called, but it exemplified just what I was feeling at that moment: the surreality of actually going towards postconventions to live my life as I had imagined it. To see The Killers because I can. I value that moment now along with that song.

I see them slowly trickling in

Bet and I were already frozen solid by the time The Killers came on. But when they did, the arena exploded with Mr. Brightside all over the place, the Battle Born album cover on the background, the lightning-shaped microphone stand unveiled, and the strobe lights blasting across the ceiling reaching towards me. Then after that, Brandon spoke: "Mabuhay! Sa wakas! The Killers are finally here! Thank you for never giving up on us". And soon enough, I was back in my wild concert antics, jumping up and down, screaming towards the collapse of my lungs. Things got so intense that I had to remove my sweater. Hell, I could have jumped over the railing if the guard was not on watch. You know it.

See that lightning bolt? That's the mic stand!

Brandon said a lot of other Tagalog words, too. Among them were, "Maka-Diyos, maka-tao, at maka-bansa". And the fact that they bring a little piece of the Philippines with them in the person of a particular guitarist who is from Pampanga - that was nice. There also was an encore, which concluded with When You Were Young, a personal request from the audience! Yep, apparently, The Killers were "taking requests" that night.



It was fantastic towards the end. It's one of those moments that kind of get you down once its over. I certainly could not get over it. By the time it was done, Bet and I were still hung-over that we couldn't allow the moment to pass without a souvenir. Ronnie threw his drumsticks to the mosh pit. I saw the lucky girl emerge from the arena. I had to get a souvenir as well!

Bet and I rushed to the gates where the VIP's are admitted. Last time we attempted to enter that part, we were shooed away by the rather rude security. This time, I politely asked the lady guard if she knew where we could buy merch. She let us in. And, damn those people! Too many people in a small t-shirt booth. I was among those playing hunger games for the price of a shirt! Lots of pulling and shoving - until I finally reach the front of the line.

Only one t-shirt left.

"Ate, magkano 'to?"

"1, 100." No shit? For a shirt?

And here's the deal: I could have stolen it. In fact, I seriously considered it. There were too many people. The lady manning the booth was not looking; in fact I think that she didn't think that I was serious that I wanted to buy. There were no security alarms. I don't even think there were cameras. I was there, clutching the shirt in my hands, 85% sure that I was going to make a run for it.

Morals got the best of me. In the end, I put the money on the counter. My conscience assured me that I was doing the right thing. Besides, the guards will probably look for a receipt.

Then, the lady looks at me, bewildered - for reasons unknown (pun intended) - then pockets the money without even acknowledging my purchase. That. Was. It. WTF? I could have stolen the shirt!!!

Ha ha ha! No, I'm glad I didn't. That's not me.

But seriously I should have.

Just kidding again.



I am proud to say that I was among those guys who went out of my way on a Thursday night because I knew that I was going to see The Killers. Went home by myself afterwards. Something tells me that Bet and I are becoming quite the concert experts. I love it.

The best. Next time, I'll be on that mosh pit.