Spice Girls Concert Review!

I’ve done some traveling in my day. I’ve been to the Eiffel tower, the Parthenon, Buckingham Palace, the Colliseum, even Anne of Green Gables’ house. And I can say with complete confidence that the Spice Girls concert on February 4th was the BEST thing I have EVER SEEN.

As with most events that alter the very nature of my being, I kept a log with me the entire night (aptly named my Inner Mono-log) so that I might share this experience with Weekend Word Up Readers:

5:30pm:
Squeeze into poorly engineered Union Jack dress in 23 Fraser restroom post-work. Feign invisibility as female co-workers enter and exit restroom. Perch on top of toilet, waiting for ideal moment to scamper out of stall and avoid damaging my reputation as mature adult professional by revealing secret double life as hysterical Geri Halliwell fan.

6:00pm:
Receive questionable looks from fellow patrons of King streetcar. Arrive to meet friends at pre-arranged meeting area. Furrow brow at realization that friends are not dressed as Posh, Scary, and Baby as discussed the evening prior. Heap praise on the one friend who has kept his promise to dress as Sporty. Later learn that this was not his intention, and that his ensemble of sweatpants, running shoes, and a hoodie was what he’d been wearing all day long anyway.

7:30pm:
Enter concert venue.

8:00pm:
Concert, scheduled to start at 7:30, has yet to begin. Participate half-assedly in “The Wave”

8:30pm:
Place bets on which Spice Girl is throwing a tantrum backstage. Posh wins unanimously.

9:00pm:
Cue opening strains of “Spice Up Your Life”.

9:00pm – 11:00pm:
[SCENE MISSING: This is where it gets hazy and I make the transformation from reasonably calm, collected woman into maniacal, crying, hair-ripping, side-clutching, squealing infant.]

9:15:
Marvel at the fact that everyone in the crowd of 20 000 has memorized all the hand motions to the song “Stop”.

9:30:
Alternate between uncontrollable shrieks of pure bliss, and sobs of despair at realization that I want to be a Spice Girl more than I want children, and my Spice Girl dream will never come true.

9:40:
Watch curiously as 300 gay men almost spontaneously combust as Posh struts down the runway to Madonna’s “Vogue”.

10:15:
Gasp as the last strains of “Viva Forever” trail off and Geri sinks slowly through a trapdoor in the stage, symbolizing her exit from the group in 1998. Cry uncontrollably at the poignancy.

10:30:
Conclude that one could eat soup out of Posh’s collarbones without difficulty.

10:45:
Laugh at the crowd’s apparent “shock” that the Spices have said their goodbyes and exited the stage without performing the song “Wannabe”, arguably their biggest hit.

10:50:
Laugh at the crowd’s apparent “relief” that the Spices have re-entered the stage to perform “Wannabe” as a post-costume change encore.

11:15:
Spill onto the street in a euphoric state. Walk directly in front of cars, trucks, and buses disregarding what consequences such actions may have. Am no longer afraid of dying, for at last I have LIVED.

12:00am:
Arrive home. Make mental note to circulate petitions for New Kids on the Block, S Club 7, Ace of Base, and Aqua reunion tours.