Swifties!

Mineral Point Hotel

Swifties!

My friend Sally and I recently made a joint decision and purchased tickets to “Fearless: A Tribute to Taylor” at the Mineral Point Opera House.

Neither of us was familiar with Taylor Swift’s music. We’d heard some hype about her dating an NFL player, but neither of us watches football. All we knew was that we’d be staying overnight at the Mineral Point Hotel and that our options, after a day of browsing the fine art shops, were either bowling in Dodgeville or attending the concert.

After booking our tickets, I began watching Taylor Swift videos, hoping to learn more about her music and her fans.

I learned that her passionate, loyal fans, called Swifties, are a widely diverse group that includes all ages and backgrounds. They’re also known to trade friendship bracelets at her concerts. Soon I was to learn more.

We checked into the hotel and walked across the street for dinner. Soon, the tables began to fill up. There were fathers with their young daughters in sparkly outfits, mothers and daughters wearing cowboy hats and white boots, and tables of mid-30s gals dressed as if for a fancy party. Sally and I might have been the oldest at the restaurant and, aside from a father or two, the only ones in jeans.

After dinner, we walked up High Street during a gentle snowfall, marveling at all the cars. Earlier in the day, the streets had been empty. Now both sides of the road were packed, and cars were driving slowly, looking for parking.

Suddenly, the streets came alive with children calling out to each other, parents telling their kids to walk, not run, and friends shouting and waving across the street to people they were meeting.

As we neared the Opera House, groups of folks were having their pictures taken under the lighted marquee. Sally and I attempted a selfie but managed to capture only our faces, or just the marquee and the tops of our heads. One child, spying her teacher, quickly skirted around us and the two began trading friendship bracelets.

Indoors, the lobby was buzzing, and the balcony where we sat felt like it was moving as people scurried about. Kids carried glow sticks, glowing butterflies, and what looked like flashlights with pom-pom-like strings that flashed when shaken. The excitement was contagious!

Our balcony had its own tiny dance floor. It was a raised platform with only three seats, and the one next to me remained empty. The rest of the theater was almost full. The noise grew deafening as the seats filled and everyone’s enthusiasm soared.

The theater darkened, the stage lights came on, and six band members walked out and took their places. Next came Taylor—actually a Taylor impersonator—wearing high black boots and a black minidress with sequins and fringe. The crowd stood and roared, and imitation Taylor started singing.

At first, I thought there was an echo, but I soon realized it was her fans singing. We were amazed that they knew all the words while we struggled to understand a few. But that didn’t stop us from joining in!

We stood with the crowd, clapped, shouted the few words we did recognize (“Shame, shame, shame”), and danced! The music was energizing, and the singer did a bang-up job without a break. The fans were up on their feet, swooning and swaying for almost every song.

A few parents ushered their children out, with the children covering their ears. Later, we figured this must have been their first concert, and it could easily have been overwhelming.

We enjoyed watching a group of three younger mothers, all dressed up, perform synchronized dance movements to many of the songs. How did they know what to do? It looked like they were having a blast, as did the whole theater. Even older folks who seemed to be around our age were up on their feet, holding their phone flashlights up, waving their arms back and forth as the night went on.

I can’t imagine what the cost would be for a real Taylor Swift concert, but Sally and I felt the twenty-dollar ticket price was more than reasonable for the amount of fun we had.

After the concert, we walked arm in arm down High Street back to our hotel. We had smiles on our faces and anticipated we’d sleep well. We were exhausted from a long day in which we’d honored our decades-long friendship and taken a chance on attending a concert where neither of us knew the artist.

Yes, we’d do it all again!