I'm a major overthinker, usually imagining the worst. In March I travelled to attend a gig by my favourite singer. It was in a small, linear village, which to me as a city suburb dweller, felt like it was in the middle of nowhere. I travelled alone, taking public transport and taxi (I don't drive).
I remember the taxi taking me to the village, looking out into the darkness, and wondering what the fuck I, a 50 something 5 foot nothing woman, on my own, in a remote village, hundreds of miles from home, was doing, and wishing I could go home. Then walking, alone, into the solitary pub (the "venue" i.e, the village hall!) wasn't open yet), ordering a cup of tea, and sitting drinking it, feeling so alone.
After, I remember standing outside the hall waiting for the doors to open, and thinking, what if I've somehow been transported to an alternative universe, and this isn't the linear village where the singer I've come to see is playing, but a different one? When you've spent hours and hours on your own, your thoughts tend to wander like that, well, mine do, anyway.
I was only fully reassured when I overheard someone mention one of the songs in conversation, then I could relax, confident that I was actually in the right place. That and when the singer walked on stage and remarked what a job he'd had finding the place (he travels solo, no band members or roadies or anything).
Then afterwards I couldn't even get a bloody signal to phone a taxi back to my hotel, so I asked if I could use the landline, but instead was very kindly given a lift by a member of staff, who refused by offer of petrol money. A great gig, and lovely hospitable people. 🙂