The Chicago skyline shimmered over the horizon, vibrating in my vision through the visible heat waves. The ground was vibrating throughout the city, because of the event that was going on that day- Lollapalooza. Some of my best friends, Colin, Josh, and I were here for this event, particularly the Perry’s Electronic Stage. We were arriving at the stage early that Sunday morning, having not the slightest clue that this would kindle a new passion in us for the rest of our lives. The weather was supposed to be beautiful, we were with best friends, and could only wait. As we lightly ran through the gates towards Perry’s, our feet left the slightest tracks, a physical indicator of our excitement.

There we stood, 8 hours after our arrival, in a state we had no idea we’d be in. The temperature had soared past the predicted high, peaking out at 101 degrees. We had already seen numerous acts, and could have left then and been happy. We were waiting at the stage for a band called KTN, one whose live shows we had only heard stories about. We stood there in that battered down field, adjacent to the stage, only maybe 10 rows back. With thirty minutes to show time, I experienced a feeling that I had not felt yet today- anxiousness. The rest of the day had been a euphoric thrill ride from show to show. I’d been to these before, and knew they got rowdy, but the whole attitude here was different. The same vibes of peace and respect spread throughout the park, but there was one factor that was significantly more prominent here, the heat. I’d been hot and dehydrated before not only at concerts, but also at lacrosse events and what not, however, not on this scale. The heat was like a catalyst for conflict and aggression; people were not happy. I stood there in that fifty-five thousand person crowd, quietly holding Colin’s shoulder while also doing my best to maintain a wide stance.

Perhaps 10 minutes later I saw something over Josh’s shoulder that I will never forget. A young man, maybe a year older than myself, made eye contact with me. This was not typical friendly eye contact though. His head turned, and as I looked over Josh’s shoulder and our sight lines connected, it was almost as if a line, a tether had been drawn, connecting our visions together. I simply gave him a nod, a standard greeting. However, he did not move. He did not smile. He did not wave. He just stared, a blank expression plastered across his face, almost as if he was not alive. The only thing that moved was the sweat. It dripped from his shaggy blond hair down his face and onto his blue tank top, now nearly black because of the sweat. It looked like he had just exited a swimming pool. This somewhat disturbing eye contact was held for not a moment short of 30 seconds, when he finally broke his statue like stare. He slowly swayed back and forth, rocking like water in the ocean. His eyes rolled backwards, the human elements of his eyes drowning in white and bloodshot circles. And he collapsed. It was like the power of gravity directly under him had been magnified, pulling him to the dirt.

It took me a second to process what had just happened. But then I put two and two together. The heat. I was sweating just as much as he, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I fell into a state of minor panic, looking around at everyone else, equally hot. I realized, this could happen to any of us. But it was for the music, for the experience, for the people. For the people. My new concentration on my water supply was broken when something incredible happened. I was shoved forwards, quickly turning around to see what happened. A group of kids were parting the crowd. Four or five teenagers, parting the slightest lane in that mob. And then I realized what was happening. Through that lane emerged a man, holding the kid I had just seen, hustling as he hauled all that dead weight through the mob, likely praying that that “lane” wouldn’t collapse on his escape. His eye’s were locked on the sidewalk away from the stage area, strikingly similarly to how his passenger stared earlier. He was determined to pull this kid out. The area went quiet, for the first time in hours, as he ran past. As he ran by, the lane closed, following a little too close behind him. As he made it out, the crowd reformed, almost as if nothing had happened. But I was touched. I had realized that this stranger had essentially saved that boy. He was at a music festival to enjoy himself and his company, and ended up saving someone from god knows what. This music had brought us all together, instilling the kind of protection that one has for their own family.