Everyone remembers their first. The firsts of these are endless--first school days. First pets, first dates, and, of course, first heartbreaks. We encounter firsts for everything in our lives. Consider it a fact of life!

My first happened on May 12, 2006--There I stood in front of my mirror, decked out in a fresh band tee-shirt, neon green shorts and a new hoodie to match the sneakers I was lacing up. My best friend, Mariah, lay on the bed next to me, yakking away. She had been talking about this for quite some time now; Later that day, we would be attending our first big concert ever. This day had been etched in our minds since December. Mariah and I had been preparing for the weekend-long Cornerstone Festival since then. I gave one last look at my crazy, multicolored hair, pulled it back into a ponytail and followed my friend out the door. Two twelve year olds, hitting the road on a Friday morning, ready to have the time of their lives.

Our plans were simple; we convinced our parents to take us out of school early that day, by means of begging and pleading. This way, we would be guaranteed to make it on time to the Orlando fairgrounds, two hours away. We had already slipped on our wristbands, ensuring our admission. We hadn't stopped talking, even as we waited for my dad, our chauffeur for the day. Our minds were already at the show, racing even faster than our physical bodies could take us. We twirled our hair and blew gum bubbles out of impatience. Mariah hadn't seemed to take even a single breath during her entire animated tirade. Every few seconds she would pause to ask me once more if her hair looked good. I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Not even out of the driveway, Mariah had talked my ear almost to the point of falling off!
At last my dad returned to the car, and as if on cue I began to play--blast, rather--a mixed CD of the bands we would be seeing. Dad was excited for the trip to be over; we were excited for it to just begin! We played with our hair, applying and re-applying our makeup as we sang along to the already deafening..."noise" as my father called it. While we did this, we fantasized about who we would see, and even joked about meeting cute band members. Orlando couldn't have felt more distant.
Close to noon and we had finally arrived at the fairgrounds. We were met with cars; cars jam-packed with teenagers, cars completely covered in all sorts of stickers, stickers for obscure bands we had never even heard of! Out of the cars, kids of varied appearances came; Mohawks, neon colors, spikes, extensions...every head dyed, every facial feature pierced. I could have fainted from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy, but a quick jerk on my arm from Mariah pulled me out of it. So we moved on. We trudged past dirty looks, tight pants and crazy band shirts, and made it to the stage fifteen minutes early to see our favorite band, Chasing Victory. There was a fairly small crowd gathered around the stage, not yet large enough to intimidate us, so we eagerly skipped to the front and anticipated the show's beginning.