Tokio Hotel in Cleveland: A True Story

My friend and I plan to travel four hours by car to Cleveland, Ohio to see our favorite band, Tokio Hotel. The only thing is, we have to do it without our parents finding out! After selling a fake story about what we're doing and where the concert is held, we head off on what is expected to be one of the greatest ventures of our lives! This is a true story of laughter, screams, and fear, but ultimately, inspiration between me and one of my best friends, and our crazy adventure that we will always remember.

AN: This story has only 10 chapters, and some are not very long due to this event's short, two-day time period and my slightly faded memory, but I assure you that everything will be as descriptive as possible. Some of the dialogue may be different because of the memory issue I just mentioned, but it will all be based off of what really happened. No additional scenes or dialogue will be added for dramatic purposes. I want to share what is true and only true. I understand this may not be a story that every Tokio Hotel fan might want to read, but I hope those who do will enjoy it. Maybe it will encourage others to write their true stories about their encounters with these four very talented boys.

*My friends' names have been changed for privacy purposes. My name does not appear in the story because it is being told from my point of view. But for all those ones who are naturally curious out there, my name is Jea (pronounced jay-uh) Enjoy!

By: Jea

Chapter 1

The first text

I was curled uncomfortably between the cold metal armrests of my seat when I awoke to a soft and familiar noise. Well-worn eyes scanning my environment, I sighed discontentedly. My friend Kate who I was traveling with sat in the middle chair in the section diagonal from me, already asleep. Even though I had flown on a plane probably near fifty times in my life, I never quite got used to the small, compact seating area in coach; I only liked it if I had a seat in first class. Being the daughter of a pilot, I was fortunate enough to have the privilege.

Over a hundred other passengers closely surrounded me, and the noise of the loud engine was heard from the outside. The plane had just taken flight, and this was my first chance in twenty-four hours to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

I looked down at my cell phone that was wrapped in my arm and resting on my folded knee, my angled bangs falling in front of my pale features. I had gotten a text message. The plane evidentially hadn't flown high enough for a phone to lose its reception. I flipped the small blue device open and saw it was from Isabel, my friend of seven long years.

dude tokio hotel is coming to ohio next month. its only a four hour drive. wanna go?

I could only say that I was shocked after I had read that message, though my exhausted body still sat stoic, void of emotion. The two of us had only known about the four foreign boys for a few months, but it had not taken long for us to become their die-hard fans. They were beautiful, I thought, inside and out, and seeing them in person was an opportunity that would be downright foolish to refuse.

I groggily jabbed a reply in my phone, but by then the plane was too high above the ground for the message to go through. I had no choice but to wait until I arrived at the airport in West Palm Beach. A flight from Atlanta to Florida was only about an hour to an hour and a half long, so even though I desperately wanted to let her know I wanted to go, I wasn't too upset. I needed to sleep anyway.

Unfortunately, the flight was horrible. It's damn near impossible to sleep comfortably in a chair cushioned out of pipe cleaners that only had enough room between the arm wrests for your hips and nothing else; no room for leaning, curling up your legs, nothing. I was pretty sure that that was why I kept waking up every ten minutes. Constantly falling asleep and waking made time pass by so slowly. I was only on the plane for a little over an hour, but it felt more like five or six. Luckily, thinking about what it would be like to see the boys in real life kept me from total nostalgia.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

After my little vacation to Florida was over, I returned home to New York and immediately brought up the subject of the concert with Isabel for more details. I was very curious to know how she planned on pulling this off. Surely our narrow-minded parents wouldn't approve of an eighteen-year-old girl taking a seventeen-year-old out of state to go to a concert for an alternative rock band.

She explained that she wanted to leave the day before the concert to take the time to tour around the area and find where the venue was and where we would park. Since neither of us were old enough to rent a hotel room, she claimed we would sleep in her car and then kill time until the concert the following day.

"That sounds like fun!" I exclaimed. I honestly thought that it did. It seemed sort of like a camping trip to me. She, on the other hand, thought it would be an inconvenience to sleep in her car, but felt it was definitely worth seeing the boys.

However, since her original plan was to go the concert alone, I wasn't too surprised when she said she was considering that again. I was disappointed, but I'm not the type of person who likes to get into arguments. I'm rather laid back. Besides, I had known her for a long time, and I knew that she wanted me to go with her more than she wanted to go alone.


I hope you guys like how it's going so far. But it's not an ordinary Tokio Hotel fanfic, and if you guys want me to post the whole thing so you don't have to wait until it gets to the concert, then I can. But let me know what you think of my writing and if you really want to read more! It would mean so much to me if people were interested in this. Oh, and feel free to write stories about your experiences with them! Whether it be a concert, a backstage meeting, a signing, or just running into them in an airport or on the street! Share the greatest day of your life with your fellow fans.

Oh, and NO FLAMES! There is a difference between them and "constructive critizism."