Honestly, don’t stress too much about the exact figure. Whether it’s 18,000 or 20,000, you’re still going to wait 20 minutes for the loo during the encore. You’re still going to buy a ten-quid beer that tastes like it was brewed in a car park.
But here’s the truth: when the main act hits the stage and everyone roars, you won’t care. You’ll just be one voice among 20,000. And for that moment, it feels like the whole world is in that room with you.
Now, go charge your phone, wear comfy shoes, and accept that you’ll probably lose your friends at least once. The O2 is a magical, chaotic, human-sized ant farm—and you’re just a lucky ant.
