So the rest…
21h33: The small woman starts to sing and then, the expression ‘group hysteria’ is weak. In the back, giant screens show on a loop hyper sexual images of her with horses.
21h34: Madonna hits with a riding crop chained men whom she keeps on a leash. The man looks at me with a weird smile.
21h40: Costume change. In a lamé overall, Madonna rides a sort of sequined saddle and sings “Like a virgin”. She does stuff with her hips which prove her virginity is long gone…
21h43: This woman is not 48.
21h44: I and my birkenstock are only 35 but only by watching her dance, we are very tired.
21h46: It’s a hologram of Madonna. No one should be allowed to have such a body at 48.
21h48: Actually it’s the man who became gay, he makes the same move as Madonna with his hips.
21h50: “Jump, jump”, screams the Ciccone. 17000 persons jumping in Bercy create strange vibrations. The words Heysel and Furiani come to my mind.
21h52: I suddenly remember I’m agoraphobic.
21h53: In my mind, I review the perfect security system in place for such an event and I think of all the firemen and doctors ready to resuscitate me in case my heart gives away.
21h54: My tachycardia crisis is easing itself.
21h58: Madonna dances like a demon. It’s crazy how such a small woman can have so much presence.
22h03: “The first who says it’s play-back, I’ll smash his faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace” screams my neighbor.
22h04: He looks super serious so I don’t tell him that, still, there are moments we can hear her better than others.
22h05: “You’re right, it’s sometimes too out of tune to be play-back “, I say, with a knowing look to the man. No because I’m a fan, right, but I’m not like these 17.000 maniacs, here. I ‘ve kept a cool head, distance and good judgment.
22h06: from the look he gives me, the man didn’t manage to keep a cool head, distance and good judgment.
22h15: Madonna is wearing a white tuxedo and dances on Music. I forget my distance and good judgment and tell tachycardia to go to hell.
22h16: I shake my hands, my humps [1] and all that can shake in my body and which I can’t name in English.
22h45: Songs pass just like my life before my eyes. Ladisla Bonita reminds me of my high school best friend. “Tell me” a magic night, “Erotic”…
22h50: The disco ball which was back up is coming down again. Bercy turns totally pink. Madonna arrives on 20cm heels and wearing a sparkling bodysuit.
22h51: “It’s gonna be hung uuuuuuuuuuuuuuup”!!! Screams my neighbor, with bulging eyes.
22h51: I’m scared of my neighbor.
22h52: I realise my neighbor is the man.
22h53: Bercy has turned into a dance floor. It’s crazy. “Times goes by. So slowly”. We are totally in fusion with her. Actually we can feel that she doesn’t want it to be over. We are 17 000 but we are like one.
22h54: Now I believe we showed her the Parisian public is something else. Actually, even from where I stand, you can feel she is filled with emotion. Something special happened.
23h00: The last notes of “Hung up” vanish in Bercy’s starry sky. I feel like it’s 6AM.
23h01: Madonna is gone. Lights are switched on.
23h02: “But where is sheeeeeee?”, yells the man, like a demon. My left neighbor explains she always leave like this, no recall, nothing. “We would be the first for who she’d come back “, he tells me.
23h03: I’m sure deep down, she would have liked to come back. All this must be her manager’s fault. Moreover, she has children. Not easy to handle all this. And at least it ends on an unforgettable communion moment.
22h04: The man tells me he feels like he’s been interrupted in the middle of coitus.
23h05: Madonna, if you come back, I’ll kick your ass.
Right, by popular demand and also because I CAN’T not mention such an evening, here is, hour by hour, minute by minute, the tale of the day I met Madonna…
