July 10, 2025, was probably the most extraordinary day I've experienced in years, perhaps ever. It was my first time at a festival or any massive event, my first time traveling alone, my first time on a train, my first time spending a night on the street... all in one day.
Now, I'll tell you how the day unfolded, what I felt, my reflections, and how I believe it has helped me grow as a person from my perspective: an extremely introverted individual with poor social skills and zero experience navigating the streets. But first, let me give you some context on where and why I went.
It all started on February 1st, when I was walking along the promenade and saw the poster for the Mad Cool festival in Madrid. I usually check festival lineups, not because I planned to go, but out of curiosity about who was playing. However, it had never crossed my mind to actually attend a concert or festival. Quite the opposite, it was one of those things I thought I'd never do—so many people crammed together to listen to music you could enjoy better at home... it just wasn't my thing.
But seeing the Mad Cool lineup changed something in me. Gracie Abrams, my favorite pop artist and a top 5 overall, is quite well-known, but the fact that I knew her before she became so famous with "The Secret of Us," and that I'd never heard anyone unrelated to her mention her... it hooked me to kept looking at the rest of the lineup. Nine Inch Nails – not top 10, but I absolutely love them. And finally, Olivia Rodrigo, probably my favorite pop artist after Gracie, and also a top 5-top 10. There were also a few other bands I liked, like Weezer, and some I listened to occasionally, such as Thirty Seconds to Mars and Justice.
I spent the entire walk thinking about the festival. What if I go? It seems tailor-made for me; destiny wants me to be there. When I got home, I checked prices, and they were as expected. I also looked at previous editions of the festival. Okay, this year's lineup was good, but other years had featured killer bands and artists like Metallica, Taylor Swift, or Deftones. This year's festival was fine, but nothing super special or rare, just very much to my taste.
As the days passed, I kept fantasizing about going, but it was just that—fantasties. I didn't believe I'd actually dare. It would be an absurdly intense experience for me. Three days of festival was too much, and I couldn't afford to neglect my projects for that long. But... what if I only go for one day? The first day wasn't bad, with Gracie Abrams, Weezer, and Iggy Pop. I started considering it more seriously and "decided to go," but I couldn't bring myself to buy the ticket. I was terrified.
Months went by, and I still hadn't dared. "I'll do it eventually," I told myself. I knew I had to go. Besides the "destiny nonsense" I'd thought initially, it would also be a brutal form of personal development. I'd step out of my comfort zone like never before, and perhaps, for the first time, I might meet people who spoke my language. Then, Muse was announced, performing on the same day as Gracie. That was it, no more excuses. Tickets would probably sell out quickly; I had to buy them now. The next day, I finally did.
The Journey
The trip started on the wrong foot at Málaga station. It took me a while to find the train, and I got quite stressed, but I made it on time without issues. Well, I did get on the wrong carriage and realized halfway through the journey, but that caused no problems.
The first thing I did upon arriving in Madrid was walk through El Retiro Park. There were hours before the festival started, so I thought I'd spend some time there, eat my sandwich, and use the restroom. It took me about an hour to find the facilities. By the time I found them, I'd already seen everything I planned to see in the park.
After eating, I had intended to go to the Prado Museum, but I was already a bit tired, and I still had about 14-15 hours until my return train, with a nine-hour festival in between and two or three hours of waiting alone on the street in the night, which was what I dreaded most. I felt a bit down and started having doubts. I didn't know what I was doing there alone; I wanted to go home. Lamenting wouldn't help, so I walked around the area to see the city. I reached the Prado Museum, but seeing such a huge building overwhelmed me. A quick stroll along Paseo del Prado would be better. I reached Cibeles and then returned to the station to head to the festival.
I arrived at the festival on time, but then I realized something I had forgotten. I had a power bank, but I'd forgotten the cable to connect it to my phone, and I was just over 30% battery with the whole day ahead. Luckily, thanks to my extreme caution and paranoia, the day before I had packed my old phone, fully charged, along with the SIM ejector tool, just in case. I never imagined I'd have to use it.
The first performance was Mother Mother. I sat at a distance in a shaded spot, relatively comfortable, to watch. The first sound they made through the speakers startled me, then the drum beats vibrated in my chest; the volume was a bit louder than expected. After the first song, maybe due to getting used to it or going deaf, the volume didn't bother me as much. I left Mother Mother with a good feeling, even though I'm not a huge fan. I enjoyed it, and I really liked the band members.
Then I went to see Royel Otis. I didn't know them much either, and I didn't find a spot where I felt particularly comfortable. I left after half a song to explore the rest of the venue. With almost an hour left until Gracie Abrams' performance, I returned to the main stage where Mother Mother had played and where she was going to perform, taking the same spot as before. There were already quite a few people, almost as many as when Mother Mother played, but with an hour to go. This place was going to fill up.
While waiting for Gracie Abrams, I had another low point, even worse than the one in El Retiro. I felt a bit unwell and was still stressed about everything that lay ahead, especially the hours on the street in the night I mentioned before. I wanted to go home. I even looked up trains back to Málaga to leave after seeing Gracie; I didn't care about anything else. But there were none; the only option was to endure.
Gracie Abrams began to play. I couldn't see anything sitting from my spot, and despite starting with two of my favorite songs, I wasn't feeling anything. Her voice was fine, but the instruments... there was something I didn't quite like. They sounded too different from the studio version; I struggled to even recognize the songs.
Shortly after, I tried standing up: since I was there, I was going to actually see Gracie, not just a tiny dot in a black dress. The people around me didn't seem to be particularly fans of the American artist; they kept talking among themselves. It annoyed me, and I started moving closer. I already felt better. Eventually, I got really into it and went as close as possible. I was getting into the groove of the concert, also the live sound that I hadn't liked at first. I positioned myself in the front row, very much to the side, but still front row. I could have seen much better if it weren't for the setting sun glaring at me. But I could see Gracie a bit better now.
I kept getting more and more hyped; I even wanted to sing, but the people around me, though more respectful than those behind, cut me off a bit; they weren't singing. When I first saw the girls with their "Gracie-bows" waiting in the scorching sun an hour before the singer, I felt a bit like, "How fanatic these people are, and how little personality they have, just to see someone they don't even know..." But now I felt, "Damn these people who show no emotion and don't sing; bring me a Gracie-bows, I'm joining the Gracie-hooligans!"
Just when everything was going well, and I felt comfortable and happy, while she was playing "Mess It Up"... blackout, the power went out. Now that I had everything under my control, the external messed up. At this moment, I felt even more annoyed that I wasn't with the Gracie-hooligans; they were singing the songs, and Gracie was with them, she started singing a cappella, but from where I was, I could barely distinguish the sound of the guitar. It lasted about half an hour. Gracie was a perfect ten, staying on stage almost the entire time and trying to keep the atmosphere going, but of course, only with the people who were focused in the front row. When the power came back, she played "Close to You" to finish. Those were the best two minutes of the entire trip. But I couldn't believe it was going to end like this, all this for Gracie Abrams, and I could only enjoy half the show. But yes, it ended. I stayed for a while in case Gracie came back out, but I left when I assumed she wouldn't. The worst part was when I later found out she had come out and had gone down with the fans to sing a cappella for a bit. That made me even more furious for missing it.
Then I went to see Iggy Pop while waiting for Muse to start. I didn't like them as much as Gracie, but hopefully, they'd salvage the festival a bit. But first, Iggy Pop. He was also delayed due to the same problems as with Gracie Abrams, but when he started playing, it was fun. Iggy Pop is so peculiar. I didn't know all his songs, just vaguely recognized or heard them, but Iggy Pop was incredible. Here, I followed the same strategy as with Gracie, positioning myself in the front row in the corner, and I saw Iggy perfectly. Here, people were super intense, but I wasn't (not because I didn't like it, but I didn't like it enough to start singing). I would have preferred the people around me to be like that for Gracie.
Before it ended, I was quite tired of standing. I went to look for a place to sit to watch Muse. I had the feeling there were twice or three times as many people as for Gracie Abrams. I positioned myself at the other end of the venue, but seated. I could barely see the screens. They started playing, and it was incredible. I was still very tired, but I tried to get a bit closer to cheer myself up. However, I had to go back to where I was before; you couldn't even breathe closer. I stayed at the back for the entire concert. Objectively, it was the most spectacular, and they sounded incredible, but being tired and so far away frustrated me. Plus, I kept remembering what awaited me in the night. I didn't have a good time.
When it ended, I went to see Weezer, completely unenthusiastic by then. I couldn't even see the screens, but I didn't care; I just wanted to be done with it and go home.
Once the festival finished, I left without much hurry. Trains would be running for an hour and a half. Seeing people rush out stressed me a bit, but I still maintained my slow pace; there was no hurry. I had a long night ahead, and any time I spent there would be time saved from being alone and insecure on the street in the night. I felt a bit overwhelmed on the train; it was packed, no stops, just 12 minutes to the station. But it felt eternal. I should have gone even slower and waited for the next one.
So, the most dreaded moment had arrived: I was alone on the street at three in the morning. The station wouldn't open until five, and my return train wasn't until six. It was time to survive. I stayed in an area with security guards placed by the festival and felt quite calm until they left. Then I approached the main entrance; there were people with suitcases also waiting who seemed somewhat normal, others less so, but there was movement, which was important, and police passing by occasionally. Compared to what I expected, it was a blessing. So I waited there. I didn't sit because I couldn't find anything clean enough to do so; I just wandered around.
I kept thinking about the day. It had been awful; nothing at the festival had gone well. I hadn't been able to see Gracie Abrams' entire performance, I had been completely drained by Muse and Weezer... After almost two hours of waiting, I decided to approach the gate where my train was leaving, just in case there were people already waiting there. There were, and they were also coming from the festival, and there was a place to sit. I should have gone there from the beginning.
Shortly after, the doors opened, and the worst was over. I just had to wait a little longer in the station, and then I could get on the return train. I was going home. I dozed off on the train once it started moving. I wasn't deeply asleep at any point, but I managed to rest. With an hour left of the journey, I woke up and started reflecting again on the festival and the trip in general, and... it hadn't been so bad after all. I had a great time with Gracie Abrams, and Mother Mother had also been a good first contact.
With the others, the downturn began, but I came to a conclusion: perhaps festivals were too much for me, but individual concerts of my favorite bands or artists, I would enjoy much more. The downside is that most of this select group of bands are retired or have deceased members: The Beatles, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin... but I still have Metallica, Linkin Park (even without Chester), Olivia Rodrigo, Taylor Swift, and, of course, Gracie Abrams. I want to see her again, alone, peacefully.
Final Reflections
If, with what I know now, I could wake up tomorrow and it was July 10th, I would accept it without hesitation. All my problems were due to my anxiety about the hours on the street in the night, and in the end, though a pain due to the wait, they were much less severe than I imagined. I would go much more relaxed and without fear; I might even have socialized a bit more at the festival. I was too worried about surviving to even consider it.
However, I don't think I'll go to any other festival in the coming years. Yes, I would repeat this one if I could, given all the mistakes I made, but before another festival, I'd go to a concert of the bands and artists mentioned earlier. In conclusion, I don't regret having gone now, even though I did during the trip, and I believe it has helped me grow as a person by stepping out of my comfort zone in such an extreme way for me.