What’s the smarmiest character you can think of in literature? Think Dickens, think Uriah Heep.
In 2010 I went to a concert of Uriah Heep. It was loud, it was crowded, the music was smashing! Smart phones weren’t that good yet and to be honest, I felt so great I couldn’t be bothered.
The event was part of Ober-Ramstadt’s 700th anniversary festivities. O-Ramstadt is a town with about 18,000 inhabitants in the Darmstadt region.
The other memorable event of the night was that nobody had foreseen that many people had arrived with public transport and the last bus had left a while before the music ended. There was a fairly large group of people who stood around the bus stop and it was agreed to share taxis to get home. The taxi company told us they would send the first one in about two hours time, this was before Uber, naturally. I don’t know what most people did, possibly sleep in the streets (bars and pubs are closed after midnight in a respectable little town like that). A group of about 15 or so decided to walk home. The friend which whom I was there had left early because she felt poorly (not related to the music).
So there I was, with 15 people whom I had never met before, aged from about 16 to well over 60 – after all: Uriah Heep! – walking through the pitch black forest towards our various villages. We took turns using our phones to light the way. It was glorious! Up until the last 4kms or so because by that time everybody else had found their own village and had presumably found their own bed. My luck that I lived the furthest away. I arrived home about three hours after the concert had ended, with blisters on my feet and chafing on my upper thighs, still tingling and exhilarated.
pictures imperfect blog 
What a story Elke, did you see the sunrise? To end up like that what were you wearing? It would have been good to see Uriah Heep. I had a similar experience going to see Woodstock in a suburban theater in a city we didn’t know. Half way through Hendrix people started leaving. Being a Hendrix fan I thought it was strange but each to their own. What we didn’t know that the last train had gone. Luckily we could ring my mates parents and his Dad came and picked us up.
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Similar experience! I would also wonder why people leave during Hendrix! — No sunrise, just the first light behind the hills. Needing to go to work the next morning (which was a Friday) I thought a shut-eye, even a short one might have help.
What did I wear? Jeans, I suppose. Open sandals (which was a mistake, running/walking shoes would have been a better option). Top – I don’t remember.
What I remember most though was a) feeling very young and a live and b) feeling very old because of one lady who told us on the way that she had come straight from work to the concert but that she felt compelled to go because “that was our youth!” and she looked like a dear old grandma. I was only 50 at the time (I say now) but it made me realise how I look to my sons and their peers.
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Sandals would have been wrong if you knew you would have had to walk. I know how you feel going to concerts and sort of look like you don’t fit in
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🤓
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