The Existence of Carrie Griffith (5SOS) [Editing]

Chapter Four: Fourteen Hours

//Chapter Four: Fourteen Hours //

On Sunday, I was up at 9. Doors opened at the boys' concert at 6pm which meant I had to be there at 3. I ordered breakfast from room service – blueberry pancakes and a large latte – and halfheartedly watched some breakfast TV. 

I had spent the previous Wednesday editing the new vlog and refreshing the hashtag (Sorry not sorry Andrew). Thursday I did more shopping and found an amazing cake bakery. Friday, I stayed in and watched movies, and Saturday I spent wandering around Glasgow. It was very pretty city and I definitely wanted to come here again.

In the midst of my lazy Sunday morning, I watched National Treasure 1 and 2 on the hotel TV with snacks also provided by the hotel. By the time National Treasure 2 finished it was almost two and I needed to get ready. I threw a vanilla bath bomb into the bath and lathered my hair in shampoo. I knew I wouldn't need any perfume as the smell of the bath bomb and my shampoo would cling to me for the rest of the day.

I was quite nervous to finally meet the boys. They were becoming accustomed to everyone knowing of them and everything about them, only for me to walk in and ask what their names are. Also, I was used to only having Haylea and Talia around me. I especially wasn't used to having large groups of people pay attention to me, which is something I'd have to get used to if I wanted to be a decent journalist.

Getting dressed was a challenge. Do I dress professionally and for my job, or casually and relaxed? I decided to go for a combination. There's time to reel it back later. I went through the limited office clothes I'd bought and settled on some dark green cigarette pants and matching blazer, with a white graphic t-shirt underneath. She shirt was an old faded, probably not even official Queen shirt I'd found in an op shop. Just casual enough that I wouldn't feel out of place. Hopefully. Shoes was the problem. This is a concert. But professionalism. And I'd just be watching backstage. Heels it is. I put on tinted moisturiser, and some mascara and packed a bag with ideas for a video or interview. I had to be gone from the boys' dressing room by 6.45 so I had almost four hours to do whatever I needed to make Henry happy back in Sydney. I grabbed my big Canon camera I used for YouTube videos and put it in my bag, wrapped in an extra scarf. I looked at the clock. 2:30. I still had half an hour and the walk to the venue only took eight minutes. I was leaving very early the next morning to join the boys on their tour bus, so I used the next ten minutes to lay out my pyjamas and tomorrow's outfit, and put everything else back in my suitcase. With that sorted, it was time to go.

I always give myself 15 minutes to get somewhere, and by the time I got out onto the street, that was what I had. The walk to the venue involved lots of lanes and turns. In one lane I found a small clothing shop that stocked graphic and band t-shirts. It seemed like a nice hello gift. The boys are all tall so I grabbed a L in four different t-shirts, thanked the young shop assistant, and off I went, a little bit quicker than before. Glasgow is very difficult to walk through in heels, and I was already starting to regret my choices when I arrived. The security guards stopped me at the entrance.

"Miss, you need special permission and a pass to get through. I'm going to need your name." It was the first Australian accent I'd heard in a few days.

"Carrie Griffith." I said. As the guard looked at his clipboard for my name, I looked behind me at the pack of fans forming. They won't be allowed in until 6, yet the line stretched down the length of the street and then around the corner. Even with three hours to go, it was insane. I could see some of the girls giving me curious and frustrated glances, at the fact that, to them, I was pushing in.

"Here you are Ms Griffith." The guard handed me a lanyard which I put around my neck, and signed the security guard's clipboard. I quickly turned to the girl at the front of the line.