The Life of Pippo, #1

The unremarkable life of Pippo, two minutes at a time.

Pippo was waiting in line under the hot August sun.

It was his first Iron Maiden concert and he could barely contain the excitement. He had somehow managed to convince a few classmates to join him. Not so many actually, just three of them besides Andy, because Andy always followed wherever Pippo went.

Pippo looked up, skimming the long line of hardcore metalheads and casuals metal acquaintances stretching towards the covered arena that was to host the concert. He turned around towards the people waiting behind them. They were roughly in the middle of the line. He checked his phone; still three hours until they would open the doors, an infinity.

They already had run out of water. They had brought only 2 small bottles for 5 people, not nearly enough. Pippo turned around to examine the area around them. There usually were middle aged man pushing carts full of ice and bottled water and soda at those events, but this time the whole area seemed completely devoid of them. He tried to swallow, but there was little saliva in his mouth. It felt dry and parched.

He suddenly thought that they would probably have died there, waterless under the sun. He would have certainly died for Iron Maiden if they had asked him, but only metaphorically and certainly not in that way. He looked at the empty, crushed bottle he was holding in his hand. What to do with it? There were a couple of drops left on…