If we're being honest, I have a few guilty pleasures that I'm learning not to call as such -- one of them is Fall Out Boy. They used to be that band that I was afraid to defend because people always gave me such shit for them, but now it's a little different: either I'll defend them or I'll just smile and say, "well, that's your opinion." I love them.

I never thought that I'd get the chance to see them in any venue other than an arena, so going to one of their concerts wasn't extremely high on my list of things to do. I tend to like smaller shows. But I was in London this past October visiting a friend and ended up with tickets to a huge arena show at Wembley, and we got all glammed up and went. We screamed our lungs out and probably scared a few people around us in the process because we were dancing so hard, but it was a fantastic night and we reminisced all the next day.

A few days earlier, a friend had informed us that there was a "secret" show being played two blocks from her flat on the day directly following the Wembley show; we entered to win tickets and didn't, but we showed up anyway -- just in case, and a couple of hours early. No one was there. Clearly, this was drastically different from anything that would have happened in the States. There, fans would have been lined up the day before to ensure themselves front row standing spots. England, it turns out, is much more chill. After a long night of waiting and some coercion directed toward security, we were let in despite not having a ticket, making us two of maybe 60 people in a crowd in a tiny room in the London Dungeons (which is by no means a concert venue) on October 23.

And the thing about Fall Out Boy shows is this: usually, if you want to have a good time, you're going to have to push in front of 14-year-olds who are elbowing you in the stomach and past mothers who are overprotective of their children being in the pit. But this show was different; no one cared who anyone else was, and everyone was genuinely happy to be there with the other 60 people in the room. There was no animosity or angry pushing, and it's possible that it was the first time ever that no one was really judging anyone else at a Fall Out Boy show. Even the band looked thrilled to be there, which often doesn't happen anymore with huge rock acts. We ended up second row by the end of the set, disgustingly covered in other people's sweat, and none of our aches and pains from being accidentally shoved when we were dancing mattered at all. My friend ended up holding Pete Wentz's hand during their final song, "Saturday," when he'd made it back to the stage after throwing himself into the crowd. We were so surrounded with love for those four dudes on stage, and even when we were the only few screaming our lungs out to all the words, it felt huge.

The most important thing about that show wasn't the set list or the band, though it wouldn't have been the same if it hadn't been those guys and those songs -- it was the crowd of people gathered to hear that music in that venue, and we knew at the end that we were the only ones who knew why it was important to have been there. Even friends of mine who hate Fall Out Boy think that seeing that show was an amazing opportunity; if you're going to see a band that sells out arena tours, that was the show to have been a part of.