"It's not over until you're home"—I wonder who said that

I have a hobby of going to live concerts and sometimes music festivals.
Once, when a senior colleague at work said to me, "Oh, that's that outdoor summer thing, right?", I couldn't help but passionately explain, "Well, that's true, but actually they happen somewhere all year round, for example..." and so on. I spoke in a rapid-fire MC style, and as the other person started giving me a polite, forced smile and brushed me off with, "Yes, yes, I get it now," I suddenly realized I was all alone right under the air conditioner.

Even if I participated in a group every year during my student days, once I started working, I couldn't adjust my schedule due to being busy, ormy friends A and B had a falling out without me knowing, so I kept a certain distance. Eventually, when I tried inviting them, I felt disheartened by their replies of "I've lost interest in rock music." It felt like trying to buy tickets during the general sale and being bounced out in seconds with a "Tickets Sold Out" message.

To top it off, I met a guy at a venue who I found on social media and who had the exact same taste in music as me, but while moving between stages, I got tripped up by his persistent, drunken "Hey, let me stay over tonight" and "Don't you feel lonely being a loner, Nya-Nya?" and I just snapped.
Thus, my journey of traveling alone, without meeting up with anyone at the site, and doing exactly as I pleased, began.

The artists performing in early spring and the daily schedule were announced (the event is on a Saturday and Sunday in July). I chose the second day, applied for the lottery, won, and paid for the ticket plus fees with joy—I've long forgotten how much it cost, but I can memorize the lyrics to a new song in one go. Magic.

Well then. I head briskly to the station while listening to an early album on wireless earphones that feel like marshmallows to the touch.
My cap and sacoche are waterproof just in case, I'm wearing a vintage-style T-shirt I got from the festival's pre-order site, a towel around my neck (with a cooling sheet inside), and arm covers and loose-fitting pants that claim to have a cool-touch feel. Based on the logo on my T-shirt, I'm wearing a relatively simple outfit with minimal skin exposure, using mint green.

I made a packing list and went shopping, simulated the short trip, stared at the weather forecast and gathered rain gear, and the result was sunny then cloudy, with the current temperature at 24°C.
I go up the stairs, glance at my smartphone screen, and pass through the ticket gate just after 6:00 on a Sunday, when there are few people around.
I take a different line than my commute, follow the electronic bulletin board, and wait for the train on the platform. I love mornings where I'm the only one who knows about this pounding in my chest.

I used to book a room near the venue and arrive the day before (I could walk there), but now I woke up at 4:00, had breakfast, got dressed, did my skincare, and put on makeup with sleepy eyes.
It helps that the new sunscreen is tinted. I finished everything except my eyebrows and eyelashes brightly, and makeup setting mist is a must, "but just in case" it gets ruined by a massive amount of sweat, I thought I'd make my eyelids sparkle.
Because I checked the contents of my bag, which were divided into small bags, over and over again, I didn't have time to use a straightener on my bangs that I'm trying to grow out—even though I made a plan, I'm always like this.
When I got on the train, as expected, the seats were empty, and the ends of my short hair reflected in the window were flipping out.

"Morning," "Have fun, Nya-Nya," "Watch out for heatstroke."
After being rocked for about 30 minutes and dozing off, I received messages from friends.
Soon, I transferred to a Shinkansen for the first time in a while, and I hesitated to sit next to an old man who was silently eating a luxurious bento with a stern expression, so I tried bowing my head slightly.
"Go ahead."
"Oh, thank you very much."
His voice was unexpectedly soft, pleasant, and gentle, and it lingered in my ears. Something I wouldn't have known if we hadn't spoken.
Lightly dressed. Seeing his minimal luggage, I got the impression that he was truly a seasoned traveler, and I wondered if I would become like him in the future.

"Shh!"
There is a parent and child across the aisle. A child whose eyes sparkle with excitement at their first (apparently) Shinkansen ride, and an old man who has finished his meal and is drinking barley tea from a plastic bottle. Both seemed happy to me, and the series of encounters, not limited to people, was interesting, and the announcement played in no time.
When I got off safely, colorful people wearing band T-shirts and merchandise started appearing here and there, and thanks to this, I can feel at ease wherever I go.

Next is the round-trip shuttle bus (this one is paid; there are also free festivals). There was a line long enough that I didn't have to bother looking up the boarding area on a map app, and arriving at 9:00 was too late. To kill time, I opened social media and looked at followers' tweets like "The entrance line is crazy as expected," "Anyone I can meet up with?," "Too hot," and "As stable as being at home," along with photos. In front of me were a man and a woman, and behind me were two women; I secretly listened to the people around me too.
"At this rate, we won't make it in time for the start."
"I feel like it was emptier last year."
Just like waiting for an attraction at a theme park, it didn't move at all. The current temperature is 30°C, sweat burst out, and I immediately moistened my throat with moon-white drinking water. Replenishing water and salt.

However, the park that is my destination is so far away that the moment I got on the bus, I was moved by the coolness.
"It's under the scorching sun, so it's just plain dangerous. Isn't a live house better?"
Suddenly, my ex-partner's calm remark and dumbfounded face came to mind. It gave me a chill like shaved ice, but I wanted to see my favorite band standing on that stage.

At first, they were within reach, I had plans to see them live every week, and I was encouraged by their existence as they steadily achieved their dreams from a seaside town, and since we are close in age, it makes me feel like I can work hard at my job too.
I leaned against the window with my sacoche (as an anti-theft measure), fastened my seatbelt, and slept soundly to prepare for what was to come.

The area around the entrance and the photo spots are crowded.
I exchanged my electronic ticket for a wristband, took photos at various places, and passed by the cloakroom I wouldn't use this time, the occasional warm breeze, countless voices, the shade of trees filled with colorful leisure sheets, smiles like the sun, music that resonates in the body, decorations that give a sense of coolness, cold beer, and merchandise booths where popularity was obvious, attracted by collaborations with food areas and apparel brands.

First, let's enjoy the live performance on the sub-stage from 12:30, and then have lunch. I want to wipe off my sweat with cool-type body sheets, spray my clothes, and while I'm at it, reapply sunscreen.

Anyway, when it comes to my summer, I leave my daily life behind, bathe in live sound, sing with someone I've just met, and shout.
I visited as a customer a few years ago, and the reason the members became friends was precisely because of an outdoor festival, along with a three-piece band where the guitar-vocalist always introduces themselves by saying "Nice to meet you," even after they've become famous.

The drink booth was faster if you paid in cash. In heat higher than my own body temperature, I avoid alcohol to prevent heatstroke.
Furthermore, famous shops say hello.
Not only local gourmet food, but also dishes from all over the world. My heart danced in front of the stalls with one-hand food, sweets, rice bowls, curry, noodles, and so on. The kids' area is uncharted territory.

It's already busy enough chasing the timetable, and everything is so attractive that I'm in trouble.
A day spent at the company feels like an eternity, but suddenly I was illuminated by the evening sky, ran through to the headliner on the main stage, and considering the travel time, the last train of the Shinkansen was approaching.

And so, I started my way home while listening to the encore song.
My short hair is dry, and I've gotten a bit of a tan. At this point, I don't care about the eyes of those around me.
But then, a slender person in all black with glossy long hair tied back, wearing an oversized faded T-shirt and long half-wide pants, suddenly stumbled, pressed a wet plastic bottle against their neck, and stopped, so I suspected they were feeling unwell and quickly called out to them.
"Miss. Shall I open the cap for you?"
When they turned around, I saw a beautiful face with ennui almond-shaped eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips.
"Thanks for your kindness. But sorry, I'm a man..."

Looking closely again, I noticed the mini shoulder pouch, the wristwatch, and the parts of their body.
He broke the unbearable silence by smiling softly and gently. It was reminiscent of moonlight shining into a dark road.
"It's confusing, isn't it? It's okay, I'm used to it."
As we started walking, he matched my speed and added, "I'm a little tired from two days in a row," before passing through the gate.

To tell the truth, when I was alone, I just wandered around and people of the opposite sex approached me.
The beautiful guy I met also got hit on and bought drinks, but the difference between him and me was that he took every situation
"Everyone was so kind. Like, when I was eating, a little kid let me sit on their mat. I guess I stood out? People asked me to be a landmark for meeting up, or to take photos for them, and when I helped out, I got salt candies and energy drinks."
and looked at it positively.

Where did the daytime excitement and the cloudy forecast go? Don't underestimate the intense heat.
As time passed, everything became annoying, and I maintained an expressionless face, giving off a unique aura.
Besides, I didn't want to be bothered. Even if he was healthy, that was fine, and we shouldn't have had any business with each other, but the conversation flowed easily, and we ended up taking the bus together.

Kurusu-san is 26, the same age as me, and he kept complimenting the sticker I had tucked into my smartphone case, calling it "cute" (plus, his hair tie was that subtle one the band sold last year, which means he's a fan).
"Instead of asking a friend and thinking 'if they can't make it, oh well,' I'm pretty okay with going on a nationwide tour. To be clear about the reason, you never know when you're going to die, right? Though, solo camping might be tough, not yet."
"Yeah, I'm pretty much the same. By the way, are you going to the one-man show next month?"
We kept repeating empathy and questions, and naturally, the distance between us closed. I smelled his botanical scent, felt healed, and had a secret regret that such a thing would happen—I should have at least brought a change of clothes.

We exchanged SNS accounts, and when I said, "Is your real name Nana-chan?" "No. I think it was on a high school field trip... uh. For some reason, I dreamed I was surrounded by kittens, and apparently my sleep-talking was crazy." "That's why, Nya-nya. I like that you're honest," I felt dizzy.
I couldn't forget the BGM that happened to play in the shop, and just like diving into an unexplored genre, even if I wanted to talk more, I was dropped off in front of the station without any traffic. Thanks to the driver.

I even had enough leeway to buy souvenirs, and Kurusu-san said he was taking the train. For some reason, the night rotary was dyed in neon colors, and I searched for words to say goodbye, like a double encore.
"When I was lining up in the morning. I heard the people behind me saying they live really far apart, but they decided to meet there once a year."
"Wow, what a wonderful relationship."
With his hair untied and hanging down to his solar plexus, I hesitantly peeked at his face from slightly below, and when he asked, "I... want to see Nya-nya again next month. Is that annoying?" fireworks went off (in my brain).

"I'm so happy. I've spent the last few years feeling out of place, unable to live without clinging to memories. Let's update that."
Unable to resist the sweet, bean-paste-like excitement no matter how hard I tried, I waved and said "See you," then ran toward the Shinkansen ticket gate.
I tried to act calm, but a single long hair had fallen onto my T-shirt, like a jellyfish tentacle tangled up.

I bought a bunch of local sweets and drank a cider on the platform all by myself, which soaked into my exhausted body.
The old routine of stopping by a super public bath and sleeping on a night bus has changed, or so I think.

Festivals allow you to freely watch multiple artists (I gained the takeaway of thinking, 'Maybe I'll try going to a live house too'), and there are various ways to enjoy them besides the stages.
If you only have one goal, it's expensive, but it's recommended for those who want to see the reactions of first-time visitors, witness the moment someone falls in love with the sound, and see more fans being made through wonderful performances (and MCs that are guaranteed to make you laugh, or cool messages that touch your heart).

"Thank you all for today! At our first appearance at XX ROCK FESTIVAL..."
The band's official notification. Even though the doors opened, it was packed, followed by posts from the members, a photo gallery full of excitement, a setlist they must have agonized over, a live report filled with soul, and reading impressions through hashtag searches, replaying memories, wrapped in cheers and applause, my eyes welled up.

"Are you tearing up?"
"It's just my makeup."
As expected of the last train, the car was packed even in the aisles, and as soon as the interaction with Kurusu-san was interrupted, a direct message arrived from the man himself.
"Good evening. I'm worried until you get home, so please contact me." "No, are you my dad?"
—My best trip came to an end in the middle of the night, still soaking in the lingering feeling of wanting it to last forever.

Even though tomorrow (or rather, today) work, a mountain of laundry, muscle pain, and the inevitable aftermath <bonus> await.

★ This was a story about a festival, including both before and after going. I hope you feel like you're with the protagonist.