Imagine it: you’re the CEO of a big company. You’re crushing it. You’re riding high. You’ve got everything. Beautiful wife, big house, perfect family. You love them all. And you love Coldplay. You’ve been a fan since Parachutes, and while you acknowledge their more recent stuff is pretty commercial, you still mark your calendar every time they come to town.
Imagine it: you’re the CEO of a big company. You’re crushing it. You’re riding high. You’ve got everything. Beautiful wife, big house, perfect family. You love them all. And you love Coldplay. You’ve been a fan since ParachuSetes, and while you acknowledge their more recent stuff is pretty commercial, you still mark your calendar every time they come to town.
Nothing beats Boston in the summer time. Cruising into Gillette Stadium, you feel untouchable. Nothing could disrupt this perfect evening. When Chris Martin and the boys take the stage to play that ethereal, anthemic kind of rock that rockets you backward in time to the days before you were saddled with the responsibilities that adulthood brings…All your worries fade away.
Against your better instincts, you decided to bring your sidepiece along for the show. After all, shared joy is doubled joy. As Chris and the boys close out “Yellow,” you breathe in deeply, and exhale. A smile rising to your lips. You’ve made it to the mountaintop. And the view is extraordinary.
As you hold your lover tightly from behind, you glance at the jumbotron. Inexplicably, you see yourself. That’s you and Kristin. Your paramour ducks for cover from the camera, and instinctively you flee as well. But the damage is done. With a laugh, your hero, the vocal soundtrack of your glory days, announces your affair to the entire stadium.
The next morning, you wake up next to your wife. You haven’t told her what happened.Maybe nothing will come of it, you think. Maybe it will just… blow over, you think. For a big city, Boston’s sort of a small town, and you’re a pretty public figure… but maybe you’ll get lucky. Maybe, the stars will align for you on this one.
Then you check your phone. One hundred fifty-eight new texts. Not a good sign. Forty links to tiktok. Thirty to Twitter. Buzzfeed, Newsweek, New York Post, the Hindustan Times. Through the walls, you hear your high school aged, very media-literate kids waking up. You feel the sand castle of your life begin to slump and melt. Your wife stirs beside you. The words to Viva La Vida begin to play in your head: I used to rule the world…seas would rise when I gave the word. Now in the morning, I sleep alone. Sweep the streets I used to own.
What are the lessons we can draw from this? I’ll take a stab at it:
- Confine your affairs to private locations, such as motel rooms. Especially if you are a powerful executive, or have a public profile.
- If you are caught in public via jumbotron, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to flee from the camera. It will only make things worse! Stick it out, perhaps look away demurely. Wear sunglasses or a hat. But you must endure the spotlight, or you will only make it worse.
I feel sad for this pair. Going to a Coldplay concert isn’t supposed to ruin your life. It might ruin your night, or even your week. It isn’t supposed to blow up your marriage. But this is the future the internet hath wrought. Anyway, here’s some t-shirts about it!
