and i need that a$ap

by think_likeafox

a$ap rocky at the opera house, toronto

The problem with not paying attention is sometimes you miss out on things. Like, I didn’t have any idea who this A$AP Rocky kid was until someone at work brought him up, and they bring him up a lot. He was in Toronto over the weekend as part of his first international tour and we hosted him at Contra/Community 54 – interviews with media, meet and greet with fans, drinks before the concert type deal.

He seems like a nice fella, but when I got there kids were lined up down the block – all decked out in low slung pants, expensive cameras, snapbacks and camo – and security was trying real hard not to lose their shit in the cold. I stood by the front window as they let ten in at a time for autographs and pictures. One girl actually cried, fanning herself, “I can’t believe it. Like… I just… can’t believe it.” Another ran out screaming, “He kissed me on the cheek… and he signed ‘trill’ on my neck!” This prompted a weirded out laugh from the super tall bouncer at the door, and a call for chicken and a 40. I get you pal. To tell you the truth, I could’ve used a shot myself. The bottle of sauv in my bag was on it’s knees begging for some company.

I never realised how much of a process it was to get an “entourage” together and on its way. There’s so many moving parts, who can keep track of all that? I don’t think I could do it. I’d snap someone’s head off. In all that chaos, I drank my wine, watered down with some shitty corner store ice (you know the type), and kept quiet, waiting to be carted clear across town to The Opera House.

(I ate a chicken sandwich somewhere in there, from down the street. “Did you like it?” The guy who made it asked, humoring our girl chat. “Fucking right. Every time.” He smiled. It’s never the same guy. But there’s always two of them.)

The show was sold out. Apparently it was “all ages”, which I find incredible, considering the f-bombs flying out of his mouth every five seconds. We were far from the stage though, I couldn’t see if parents were present and wearing shocked expressions. They should have been. I would have been.

At one point, “That guy sounds like Drake.” Yeah, I thought so too. Then, “Oh… it *was* Drake?” Doesn’t that just beat all?

And it was over. It was good stuff. You don’t have to believe me. You can believe the few hundred people that all tried to get out the door at once. You know what that looks like? This.

After the party it’s the after party. A birthday party. In the other direction. Clear across town. Four girls in the back seat. “You can move if you believe!” Struggle through warm bodies trying to get up the stairs, hoping they’ll sweet talk the pretty girl in the sequin skirt with power of veto and wrist bands. “No, there’s two parties. You’re not allowed in this one.” Sorry guys. Take your puffy vests and your Timberlands somewhere else.

It was hot up there. It was dark. Lots of blue and purple lights and base beats. Long lines for the bathroom. Little, expensive drinks. High heels and short skirts. I stood there in my parka, denim shirt and too-tight jeans feeling older then my years and totally out of place. Man, is this what it’s coming too? I remember when I used to have fun at these things. Everyone else was, why wasn’t I? So I left. A$AP showed up. The Weeknd. Where was I? On the bus up the street to my bed and a toasted cheese sandwich. I’m slowing down while the world speeds up. There’s something wrong with that picture.