What Traveling to Paris for ATEEZ Meant to Me...

In January of 2025, I did something completely unlike me.

I bought plane tickets to Paris for me and my daughter Grace to see ATEEZ in concert in February. Four days. International flights. School vacation timing. Zero overthinking once I finally hit “purchase.”

And honestly? I was terrified to tell people.

Not because I thought it was irresponsible, but because I knew exactly what some reactions would be:

“You’re flying to Paris for a K-pop concert?”
“At your age?”
“For four days?”
“Isn’t that excessive?”

Maybe it was.

I didn’t care.

Because somewhere along the way, I realized I was tired of shrinking the things that bring me joy just because other people don’t understand them.

And the truth is: I have been going to concerts my entire life.

I grew up seeing bands like AC/DC and KISS in the 80s. More recently, I’ve seen artists like Sierra Ferrell and Gladys Knight. I love music. Always have. Live music has always felt like one of the places where life becomes bigger, louder, brighter, and more connected.

But this concert?

This was different.

This was hands down the best concert experience of my life.

Not just because of the performance itself — though ATEEZ absolutely delivered a level of energy, artistry, emotion, and stage presence that still feels hard to explain to people who haven’t experienced it.

It was everything surrounding it too.

It was boarding a plane with my daughter for an adventure that felt spontaneous and a little ridiculous in the best possible way. It was wandering through Paris while knowing we were about to experience something unforgettable together. It was seeing thousands of people from all over the world united by music, joy, fandom, and belonging.

It was realizing that excitement does not have an age limit.

I get teased sometimes for loving K-pop at this stage of my life. And honestly? That says more about people’s discomfort with joy than it does about me.

There is something incredibly freeing about reaching a point where you stop asking whether your happiness looks “appropriate” to everyone else.

I’m too old to pretend not to love the things I love.

Too old to act embarrassed about music, fandom, travel, books, conventions, or excitement.

And maybe that’s part of what this trip really meant to me.

It wasn’t just a concert.
It was proof that life can still surprise you.
That there are still adventures waiting.
That you can still become a new version of yourself at any age.

Four days in Paris for a concert might sound crazy to some people.

To me, it felt like the beginning of something much bigger.