The wristband I didn't believe

I started listening to Rammstein about 20 years ago, sneaking cassettes from my brother when he wouldn’t let me. I saw them for the first time in Sopó, a bad venue for a first concert, but seven years later I made a different decision: traveling alone to Dallas after a breakup. I don’t speak English, so when the logistics guy approached me, it was a Mexican woman in line who translated for me — they were inviting me to the after party with the band.

I didn’t believe it until I saw the line of people wearing the same wristband as mine, waiting to get in. Paul arrived first, then Flake, then Richard, and finally Till Lindemann — that’s when I fainted. I barely speak English, so I could hardly hold a conversation, but Till was warm and kind: he asked what I’d do for the rest of the trip, and when he found out I had no plans, he had his assistant buy me flights and a VIP pass for the Las Vegas show. I ran into him again at that after party, and he handed me a mezcal that, even though I don’t drink, I was never going to turn down.

I saw them again in Puerto Vallarta over New Year’s 2018 (that’s where I met Schneider at the after party), and in 2022 at Foro Sol in Mexico City, front row for the first time in my life. The next day I ran into Flake walking down the street and asked him for a photo. In total I’ve been to seven shows: one in Colombia, four in Mexico, and two in the US.

I still have an original DVD signed and gifted to me by Till’s bodyguard, framed tickets, two official posters from Las Vegas and Dallas, a custom-made shelf with the RT symbol, and a tattoo.