Justin Bieber is in NZ today, and screaming girls are everywhere: at his hotel, at the airport, running amok around the streets of Auckland. How awful/terrible/atrocious/stupid can all this get? Hey, ops, I've just remembered, I used to do exactly the same thing when I was a teen!
I waited 8 hours at Wellington Airport to see The Beatles, climbed 5 floors up the Hotel St George's outside fire escape for Cliff and The Shadows (missing an important typing exam in the process), skipped work for Bobby Rydell, won Herman and his Hermits in a contest, rushed up to the stage for Billy J Kramer (surely that wasn't why the concert was cancelled a quarter-way through?), chased after NZ's 'King of Rock'n'roll, Johnny Devlin - and got a piece of his (what I found out later was a special rip-apart) shirt, and at the behest of The Beach Boys' father/uncle, I started up a correspondence with him relating to the NZ music charts. All in all, I met dozens and dozens of pop stars.
To show that NZ wasn't a 'soft' place, I later proved my mettle in London when I managed to penetrate the ranks of thousands of fans and security guys outside and later inside the Royal Gardens Hotel, gaining access to the actual floor where The Monkees were partying (saw them, couldn't speak to them 'cause I was pretending I was a hotel guest and I'd wandered by mistake into their area).
So, how can I pooh-pooh the young people racing around after Justin Bieber? Good luck to them. These kids will always remember Justin and the times with fondness. In fifty years they, too, will be looking up "whatever happened to...." sites and reading about their lost idols. I'm so glad I have had such fun teen memories to look back on.