Getting tickets has become one of the most stressful competitions of recent times. Whether they're paid or free. Of course, there are still plenty of shows that would love to sell out, but the feeling that we're missing out because we're not on top of things or moving fast enough is growing. Before, queues were physical; people would get up very early or sleep on the street to get a concert ticket. Now, queues are virtual; people wait in their pajamas at home in front of a sign on their computer screen indicating their number in an endless queue. The technological lottery will decide whether you've been lucky or whether your day will be ruined by not being able to get a ticket for a unique event that will happen a year from now. Or more. Because spontaneity is dead. And we, perhaps before even attending the show, are too. But the important thing is having gotten the tickets.
Young people talk about FOMO, which naturally comes from English, just in case, and stands for Fear of Missing OutBetween us, in the Catalan we've always known, it's that fear of missing out on the spectacle everyone's talking about, and therefore, the fear of being left out of the group we want to belong to. Speaking in acronyms has been out of favor for ages; some of us have been left out too. Among other things, because it's a dreadful trend. Every now and then, it would be good if some tasteful fashion took hold so we could happily join in. But ever since the tracksuit became accepted as everyday streetwear, the taste of today's society has been steadily descending the aesthetic ladder, ending up on par with the Christmas lights on Aragó Street in Barcelona. In any case, and accepting that the recovery of good taste is lost, we must also accept that we won't always be where we want to be, that there are many options and time is limited. It's very satisfying for any artist to fill stadiums and theaters. Nothing against that, not at all.
But tickets are selling out faster and faster. Soon they'll last less time than a conversation with a teenager.
Today, in this age of treacherous networks, you find out much more often than before that you've missed out on something, because information used to circulate through fewer channels and was more limited. In fact, it often came from your social circle, who would tell you about something they'd seen and point out, sometimes with an overly triumphant tone, that you'd missed it. And you'd feel bad for a while, but you'd quickly recover. Now, however, the environment is vast and overwhelming. And the anxiety, greater. It doesn't matter if you haven't succeeded in the pre-sale of Rosalía's concerts (pre-sale(Another added stress, a whole other issue) or in the general sale, or if you haven't managed to get a free ticket to the Fabra i Coats Toy Factory, which also disappeared in record time. The point is, you've been left out, despite entering the race. The important thing has never been participation. That's why we get so angry so often. The option of having tried isn't enough for us. We struggle to choose to relax, to think that there are a lot of us, too many, and that while some are attending the event of the year, our lives still have extraordinary value. Or not. Because just as the event of the year doesn't have to be, our existence shouldn't consist of spending all day looking for the experiences that are supposedly the most extraordinary. It's exhausting competing with others and with ourselves. In the end, the tickets are sold out, and we're exhausted.
