We're Going to See BTS — and I Was in a Work Meeting When We Got the Tickets

There’s a version of me from ten years ago who would not be able to comprehend this sentence: I am going to see BTS live in Bogotá, Colombia.

She’d probably stare at it for a while. Maybe read it again. Then she’d start crying, which is, honestly, exactly what I did when it became real.

October 3rd, 2026. My friend and I have tickets. We’re going.

Ten Years

I want to talk about what ten years actually means, because I think it gets glossed over when people talk about being a fan of something.

Ten years means you watched them be small. You found them before the world did, or maybe right when the world was starting to notice, and you watched something you loved grow into something enormous.

You watched them go through things publicly that most people go through in private. You watched them love what they do and also struggle with it.

You grew up alongside them — through your own hard years, your own good ones, the years where everything shifted.

I was a teenager when I first heard them. The song that really got me — the one I consider mine — is Save Me. There’s something about that song that I still can’t fully explain. The way it sounds like relief and longing at the same time. I loved it so much that I went to the park near my house to learn the choreography. By myself, in public, practicing the moves. I am, objectively, a terrible dancer. I accepted this reality relatively quickly and retired from the project, but I don’t regret a single second of it.

Now I’m 24, I have a job, I’m chasing a scholarship to South Korea, I’m building things I’m proud of — and they’re still there. Different, older, better, freer. Same with me, I hope.

My favorite, if I’m being honest, has always been Taehyung. There’s something about him that I find genuinely rare — he’s ethereal in the way he moves through the world, but he’s also deeply, stubbornly himself. That playfulness he has, the way he doesn’t take himself too seriously even when everything around him is enormous and serious — I think that’s harder to hold onto than people realize. He’s someone unique, in my opinion. That said, I love all of them equally, and I mean that. Each one of them has been something different at different moments.

Ten years of that doesn’t feel small. It feels like something worth showing up for.

The Queue

We knew the sale was going to be chaos. Ticketmaster virtual queues always are. So we each got on from different devices — more chances, better odds, at least one of us would make it through.

I was somewhere very far back. My friend was moving fast.

And then — because the universe genuinely has a sense of humor — I got pulled into a work meeting. I work from home, everything happens on the same laptop, so there I was: on a call with my professional face on, on the same screen where my queue position was slowly moving forward. I kept glancing at the other tab. I kept trying to seem focused.

I didn’t need to.

When I got out of the meeting, she had already sent me a message.

I already bought them.

I read it three times. Then I called her and we were both barely holding it together. She’d done it — while I was in that meeting, she had moved through the queue, made the decision, and secured us seats in oriental baja. Close to the stage. Actually close.

We almost cried. We’re very normal about this.

What It Actually Cost

Let’s talk money, because I think people should be more honest about this stuff.

To even access the presale, we had to buy the ARMY Membership — around $22 USD each. That’s the official fandom membership that unlocks early access to tickets. Bureaucratic? A little. Worth it? Absolutely.

The tickets themselves came out to roughly $280 USD each — around $560 USD for the pair. For oriental baja — that close — honestly not bad. But it’s also not nothing, especially when you’re not in a city where concerts just happen regularly.

My friend bought them on her credit card because mine doesn’t have that much limit available. I want to be clear: we’re both professionals, we’re both fine — this is just the reality of being twenty-something and figuring out credit and big purchases. I’m genuinely grateful for her. She didn’t hesitate.

So literally the day after buying the tickets, we did what made sense: we made a raffle. If you can lighten the load, you lighten it. Little by little, we’ve been covering the cost ever since.

When you add everything up — flights from Guadalajara, Airbnb, food, the tickets, the membership — we’re looking at around $830 USD each for the whole trip. For our first trip together. For BTS. For October in Bogotá.

Worth it. I know it’s worth it.

I’m also choosing to frame this as my birthday gift to myself. My birthday is October 23rd. The concert is October 3rd. Close enough. Gift unlocked.

Getting There

We’re not exactly around the corner from Bogotá.

The plan is to take a bus to Guadalajara first, then a direct flight to Colombia. It’s going to be a whole journey, and I love that — it’s supposed to feel like something you worked for.

It’s my second time in Colombia. Three years ago I went to Cartagena for a summer research internship, which was one of those experiences that quietly changed me. Cartagena is warm and golden and full of color. Bogotá, I’m told, is completely different — cooler, greyer, more intense.

And this time, it’s also our first trip together. My friend and I have shared so much over the years — but we’ve never actually traveled somewhere together. The fact that it’s happening for this feels right.

We’re staying five days, which means we actually get to be in Bogotá, not just pass through it. The list keeps growing: Monserrate, La Candelaria, Museo Botero, Museo del Oro, Parque Simón Bolívar (obviously), Chapinero, Parque de la 93, the planetarium. Everything we can fit. I like that we’re treating this as a real trip and not just a concert with logistics around it.

For the concert itself, our Airbnb is about 30 minutes on foot from the stadium, which I love. We’re planning to arrive two hours early. It’s our first time going to a concert of this scale — we genuinely have no idea what to expect from the queue situation — but showing up early feels right. I’d rather be standing outside, excited, than rushing.

Bogotá in October is reportedly around 5°C.

I grew up in western Mexico. Five degrees is genuinely not something my nervous system has prepared for. My fears are: the cold (real), the security situation (also real — I want to be careful, not paranoid, but careful), and the pure physical chaos of a stadium full of people who care as much as I do. All three of those things are manageable. I’m going anyway.

The Freebies

One of my favorite things about going to a concert like this is the culture around it — the handmade things fans exchange, the little gifts that turn a show into a community. People spend weeks making things to give away to strangers who love the same thing they do. I find that beautiful.

My plan is: mini army bombs to hang from the phone, Mexican candy (because who doesn’t want Mexican candy from a stranger at a concert?), and fan-made photo cards. I love giving things to people. It’s not going to be a short list, I already know this about myself.

I’m starting to make them in May. Right now I’m still in planning mode — looking at references, thinking about materials, figuring out how many I can realistically make — but the inspo I keep coming back to is this:

Ver mini army bombs en Instagram →

Small, handmade, something I actually put time and care into. Something to look forward to between now and October.

The Outfits

I am, fundamentally, a skirts-and-dresses person. This is not something I’m willing to negotiate on, not even for 5°C.

The challenge is real: “cute concert look” and “it is effectively winter in an outdoor stadium at night” are two briefs that don’t naturally overlap. I’ve been thinking about layering, about the right coat, about shoes that can handle standing for hours but still look like I tried. Still in planning mode on this one — but the direction is something like:

The skirt stays. Non-negotiable.

The Part Where I Have to Be Honest

There’s something I haven’t said yet, and I think it deserves its own section.

This trip is conditional.

I’m in the final stages of applying for the GKS scholarship — the Korean Government Scholarship — to study in South Korea. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and I’ve been working toward it seriously. If I get it, I’ll have to leave for Korea. Which means October in Bogotá doesn’t happen. Which means I sell my ticket, hand my freebies over to my friend so she can give them away in my place, and I watch it all from somewhere on the other side of the world.

I genuinely don’t know how to hold both of those things at once — the wanting this trip so much, and also wanting the scholarship more, and knowing that if the best thing happens, I lose the other thing.

What I’ve decided is: I’m going to keep planning the trip like it’s happening. Keep making the freebies, keep refining the outfit, keep adding things to the Bogotá itinerary. And if October comes and I’m in Korea instead, then I’ll pray BTS announces more dates there in 2027 — and I’ll send my friend off with the best bag of Mexican candy anyone has ever brought to a concert.

Either way, this moment — getting the tickets, planning the trip, making things with my hands for strangers who love the same music I do — none of that disappears. It already happened.

The Friendship

I’ve been talking about “my friend” this whole time without saying what I actually mean.

We’ve known each other for more than twelve years. We grew up in the same neighborhood — we were just there, in each other’s peripheral vision. I’ll be honest: she used to get on my nerves. She talks a lot, and I’m someone who needs quiet. I felt like she invaded my space. I wasn’t exactly eager to be close.

And then BTS happened.

I don’t know exactly when it shifted, but somewhere in all of those years of sharing songs and staying up late and caring about the same things, she became one of the people I can’t imagine my life without. The talking-too-much thing is still true. I’ve just stopped minding.

She bought the tickets while I was in a work meeting, without hesitating. She didn’t call me first or wait for me to get out. She just did it, because she knew I would have wanted her to.

That’s who she is. I’m glad BTS helped me figure that out.

Ten years is a long time to love something.

It’s long enough to watch it grow, to grow alongside it, to have it become part of the background of your life — playing during drives, during good days, during the hard ones where you needed something familiar. Long enough to find yourself at a park near your house trying to learn a choreography you will never, not once, be able to execute correctly. Long enough to build a friendship you didn’t see coming.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, the thing you’ve loved from a distance comes close enough to actually be there for.

October 3rd. Bogotá. My friend and I, together, after ten years of being fans.

If I’m there — we’re going.