Swifties around the world tuned in to watch the first episodes of Taylor’s End of an Era docuseries this weekend. I’d probably put myself in the category of someone who likes her music, is impressed by the business she’s built, but doesn’t know the depths of the lore. Still, I wanted to watch. Mostly, I wanted to see if one of the craziest moments of my life would be discussed from her point of view.
Maybe “surreal” is a better word than crazy. I don’t think there’s a single way to describe the thoughts and emotions that hit in the hours between seeing a post about enhanced security and then reading a black-and-white text update saying the show you and your friends had spent the better part of a year planning a trip around was suddenly not happening. And not because of illness, a transit strike, or some other “normal” reason, but because intelligence agencies from your home country and the local country had stopped a very real terror plot and potentially very horrific.
Live events, especially concerts, and traveling bring me an immense amount of joy. They’re part of my career and have shaped some of my most formative experiences. This blog spun out of a music blog I started in high school and became an outlet to share my adventures during study abroad. Last year, I began writing more about travel and planned to document my annual pilgrimage to Europe. The idea was simple and exciting: visit at least one new country, see a few concerts, and have the ideal girls’ trip.
It all started according to plan. Lounge time, an overnight flight in business thanks to points, and landing in Vienna before heading to Bratislava. Tired but excited, we dropped our bags and headed out for Day 1, pushing through jet lag and trying to get on local time.
The next day, we traveled to the southern corner of Czechia for a tour of the Moravian wine region. I was interviewed for national television, we drank incredible wine, explored cellar caves, and had one of those days you wish you could bottle. Our final day in Bratislava was full of exploring. Coffee, wandering, bell towers, laughter. Everything still felt exactly as planned.
It was back at the hotel before dinner that things shifted. For reasons I still don’t fully remember, I checked the Eras Tour Reddit thread and saw a post about rumors of enhanced security. There wasn’t much detail, just that it would be increased. It didn’t feel alarming, and maybe I didn’t want to give it weight by saying it out loud, so we went to dinner and I debated whether it was even worth mentioning.
Then everything changed.
There are sounds that stay with you forever, and the yell of “WHATTTT” that woke me around midnight will always be one of them.
Moments like this show you who you’re traveling with, and I felt incredibly fortunate to be with two friends who could balance emotion and logic and who are genuinely wonderful humans. At the same time, our other friend was alone in her hotel in Amsterdam, preparing to fly to Vienna the next morning and navigating it all with us over the phone.
We got to work. We called family and friends back home, checked with a few key people, and built new Plan A, B, and C. We had no idea what Vienna would look like the next day or if the threat was neutralized. Do we go back? Do we change plans entirely? In moments like this, I’m deeply aware of how fortunate I am for the passport I carry and the people I have around me.
Ultimately, we decided to return to Vienna as planned and met up with our friend. While there would be no concert, everything we learned indicated the situation was handled and the city was on high alert. We chose rideshares over public transit, avoided heavily crowded areas, and made the most of the time we had.
We didn’t see the Cornelia Street tree or join the massive sing-alongs, but we traded bracelets in our hotel, enjoyed free or discounted treats by showing our tickets, and wore our bows to a fancy dinner that was supposed to be the night before the show. We ate the schnitzel that had been planned as our pre-show meal and had a perfect night of girlhood in the hotel room with sheet masks and wine during what would have been our concert.
From there, the group slowly thinned out. One friend left, then three of us headed into the Austrian mountains. Soon it was just two of us continuing on to Munich. Those days included another mountain adventure, a round of mini golf where the attendant put on a Taylor playlist for us, and back-to-back nights of music: Adele, followed by a last-minute decision to see Coldplay.
Exactly one week after we were supposed to see Taylor, we walked into a pop-up stadium in Munich with 70,000 other fans to see Adele’s residency, a day before the Eras Tour was set to resume at Wembley.
I’ve been to close to 260 concerts, and if you count sporting events, well over 300 large-scale events. You don’t usually think about security other than it being one of the steps along the journey. You show up, get your bag checked, walk through a metal detector, and trust that you can enjoy the experience. I’ve never been more aware or more grateful for the people doing those checks than I was walking into that show.
There was never a real question of whether I’d go, but that morning carried uncertainty. Would it feel safe? What would it feel like emotionally? Add in the heat, an outdoor venue, and a forecast calling for thunderstorms, and there was a lot swirling.
We wandered through “Adele World” feeling the humidity of a summer storm building. In an oddly poetic way, it felt like the emotions of the past week were being released into the air around me as it started to rain minutes before Adele took the stage. I’m not usually a concert crier, but hearing the first notes of Hello cracked something open. Singing and dancing to Adele in the pouring rain became one of those deeply formative moments of release, joy, and sadness for what could’ve been all at once.
Her humor and her voice were exactly what was needed. Much like what Taylor referenced about stepping back on stage and feeling extra magic from the crowd, Adele delivered something special that night. Followed by Maggie Rogers, Coldplay, and a surprise appearance from Shawn Mendes during Fix You, those two nights reinforced why concerts are still some of the most meaningful experiences we get to share. We all walk in carrying something different, but for a few hours, we’re connected by moments unique to that night.
Which brings me back to why I wanted to write this.
I hit play on the Eras documentary knowing Vienna would be mentioned, but not much else. Within seconds, emotions surfaced that I hadn’t realized were still sitting just below the surface. I had processed pieces of what happened in real time, but mostly stayed focused on enjoying the rest of the trip.
Then came the black-and-white Vienna text, and it finally landed.
I knew what had been avoided. I had read the details. But it didn’t fully sink in. In 2015, I was at a concert in Philly when news of Paris broke. In 2017, I watched Manchester and later Las Vegas unfold on the news. In 2023, I was boarding a flight to Italy ahead of a friend’s wedding on October 7th. Each time felt horrific, yet distant. I think we’re wired to believe these things won’t touch our own lives.
Watching the documentary, it hit how truly close Vienna 2025 could have been added to that list, and that it could have been our lives.
Thankful barely scratches the surface of how I feel toward the intelligence professionals who prevented a very different outcome. Grateful adequately describe how I feel about the friends I traveled with or the family who worried as we continued on. Inspired may come close to how I felt watching Taylor and her team process Vienna and still step back on stage a week later.
I know a part of me will forever scan for exits, appreciate security screenings instead of being annoyed by them, and carry a quieter awareness of what could happen.
I was fortunate to spend 2025 traveling both domestically and internationally and went to concerts in four countries. Each show was a reminder of the joy and catharsis live music carries, and a chance to share an experience with friends, family, and sometimes strangers who chose to show up in the same place at the same time.
Thank you, Taylor, for sharing. Thank you to the friends who actively chose to create and experience joy even when plans fell apart. And thank you, if you decided to read this.
Here’s to continuing to let moments of joy outweigh moments of attempted destruction.
