Sneaking Back Stage: Hard Rock Calling

Not one worker looked at me as I entered the back doors of the most rock and roll event to hit the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park so far. I felt like a pigeon amongst penguins with my untamed hair and ripped Jack Daniels tee against their crisp uniforms yet not one ruffled a feather. Consequently I could have laid an egg as I found myself in the Hard Rock Calling backstage complete with a complimentary free bar and rock star company.

I had managed to procure myself a shift working in the artist's kitchen area to greet the bands for their dinner. This in itself was achievement enough to make many groupie's noses turn browner than the after-math portaloo contents. It was not as rock and roll as I imagined as I watched Kodaline munch on their granola while The Cribs politely handed me food vouchers.

On a cigarette break, I began to hear stories about the separate bar area full of drunken singers and expensive bourbons. It sounded like a gold mine of pesky rock star antics compared to me almost falling asleep whilst greeting Paul Weller and his entourage.

After my shift, I was ushered out the front to watch all the bands that I had previously just fed. Miles Kane blew away the sticky crowd while I ventured to the middle to get a better view. And then the mighty Kasabian had the crowd throwing me about like a wacky waving inflatable tube man. Because they were the headliners, I knew that time was running out at the concert so I grabbed a friend and made my way towards the forbidden Narnia that was the backstage.

And there I stood, face to face with a display of Katy Perry's dress that cost more than my whole three years of student loans and overdrafts combined. I soon found myself conversing with American Hard Rock Millionaires  and Irish rock stars whilst sipping cocktails as if I was starring in some kind of modern day alternative Cinderella.

Only too soon was I reminded that I had a pumpkin and a pile of mice waiting for me. Some rich snob proceeded to comment on life beyond the stage that separated the two worlds. He scoffed at the fans who were sacrificing their hydration and personal space to see their idols while we merely relaxed and watched Kasabian on a HD screen. I began to wonder, if it weren't for the free bar and an opportunity to hang with famous bands, would I have stayed there? Answer, no. There's just no atmosphere in the VIP and what would a concert be without getting some battle scars!

When I woke up the next day fully dressed in a Hard Rock Calling tee that I stole from some rando cart, I thought, I am a lucky bitch.... until the hangover kicked in.