"A Memory Worth Savouring" by Emily De Silva

It was May 28th of the year 2018, and I will always remember it as the best day of my life. I was 17 years old then, soon to be turning 18, a legal adult, although I certainly didn’t feel like one.

It was a warm day, the sky blue with puffy cumulous clouds, and temperatures reading about twenty-one degrees. It felt hot standing outside for so long, but in my mind, it would be worth it. Coming to Toronto would be worth it, a city that is an hour away from home if it weren’t for the traffic. With traffic, it could be much more.

Mom and I had left over two hours early to be on time for this once in a lifetime event. I had been eager at the prospect of seeing Seán William McLoughlin—also known as JackSepticEye and one of my idols at the time—for quite some time. I remember swooning when I discovered that he would be coming to Canada to perform his comedy live show world tour, How Did We Get Here, and had booked my ticket right away. I had not booked a VIP ticket, mostly because being able to attend at all was enough, especially since tickets had sold out in a mere two days. Two days!

So, having asked my mom to drive me to the venue—to Danforth Avenue, where the theatre was located—I had waited.

The show was set to begin at 7 PM, though it didn’t start until two whole hours later—likely because Seán was busy taking extra time with VIP fans. I recall wondering if I should’ve booked a VIP ticket after all, but I quickly swept the thought away, reminding myself that I was still there and I would still see him live in front of my very own eyes anyway.

So, I waited. Alone. Amongst dozens, or perhaps, hundreds of other fans. I had but only one friend who enjoyed watching Seán’s content, too—Lucas—but unfortunately, he could not make it due to school and other commitments getting in the way. Many people, apart from Lucas and myself, don’t enjoy Seán’s content or what he does, and it’s largely because they find him too loud and brash, but they fail to see that while he is very much this, he is also one of the most genuine and caring people I know.

Nonetheless, waiting alone with a line of other fans did not bother me, for I had Sam, Seán’s SepticEye plushie and logo for his channel—something that I normally wouldn’t carry around with me in public due to my social anxiety, but this was a special occasion; I thought it only fitting to take Sam with me. Besides, I knew I was among likeminded people who also shared my admiration for Seán, as much stranger as they may be.

I didn’t mind the excruciating wait time, really, even as my feet began to ache, because I knew that meeting my role model—the person who had entertained and kept me happy by producing gameplay and various other in-real-life content—after years of watching him on a screen would be worth it; I knew it’d be, even if I wouldn’t meet him face-to-face.

Yes, Seán had helped me in more ways than I could convey. Throughout my childhood, I struggled to fit in, to make friends, and to find people who liked me for… well, me. Seán had taught me that I didn’t need to try so hard, though. By watching his content day after day, I had learned that I could embrace who I was, that I didn’t need to hide, and I didn’t need to care so much about how others perceived me. He had made me feel seen. He has helped me onto a journey of self-discovery, one that I’m very much still on, but to this day, his influence has made me a better person.

As the line finally began to move, I overheard someone shout that they spotted Seán through an upstairs window, which only heightened my anticipation—to think that he was really here, in the same place, the same city, the same country even as me!

I got inside and asked a staff member for directions to my designated seat, and in no time at all, I found it—seat JJ27. The coincidence of the seat matching my birth month and day felt like a good omen and still stuns me.

I sat beside another fellow fan, an older boy, it seemed, who found it frustrating that others couldn’t see beyond Seán’s profanity to appreciate the person he was underneath the online entertainer’s façade. It was dark, so I couldn’t see much of his face. All I know was that he was a man of pale skin with dark, or perhaps dusty blond, hair and a strong, toned physique with broad shoulders to fit with it. I sat with SepticEye Sam in my lap and laid my light denim blue satchel on the ground by my feet, overlooking the stage and the rest of the audience down below me as everyone else went to find their seats.

At the back of the stage was a screen projecting Seán’s banner art for the How Did We Get Here? comedy live show world tour, displayed in an almost cryptic font in bright red, green, and blue. The ‘o’ in “How” replaced by none other than his logo, SepticEye Sam. Like the line outside, it seemed as if forever had passed before the screen went blank.

Much to my surprise, the show began with a video of Seán in his recording room, speaking to us through the same camera, on a similar screen as we’re so used to seeing him on. I must admit, between the surprise and the anticipation, I was a little bit disappointed, as I expected to see him on stage right away, but the buildup was part of the experience.

He joked around, held a drawing contest, and after googling ways to entertain a live audience, he even held direct eye contact, staring into his camera lens as if he were trying to see into our souls. We all laughed because it was much like the comedy we were used to, until finally, he gave up on trying to entertain us through his camera and said, “Okay, how about this: If you come out from behind your screens, I’ll come out from behind mine.”

And then was the moment that the screen turned off for good, and Seán ran onto the stage, met with thunderous applause. He was a natural at this, in his element, we should say.

He commenced with a few of favourite poses and cracked a few jokes.

Then his tone turned serious.

Before he began with the true nature of this show—the How Did We Get Here special—he had given us only one request. “What I want people to do,” he said, “is to put away the phones. Put away the cameras, the iPads; and just enjoy being here, in this moment.”

And so, despite Lucas’s wish to “film that shit,” I turned my phone on silent mode and laid it face down beneath Sam. I wanted to give Seán my full attention—and my full respect, because this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I never wanted to forget.

And then, Seán began.