Swiftie
Ava’s face was practically pressed against the train window, watching the Swiss countryside blur past in a wash of green pastures, rolling hills, and picturesque villages. The rhythmic hum of the train gliding over the tracks was background noise to the excited chatter filling their first-class compartment.
The journey from Lausanne to Zurich was a seamless three-hour trip, made all the smoother by their FairTiq apps—Switzerland’s answer to effortless train travel. No lines, no tickets, just a simple scan and go. It was efficiency at its best, something the Swiss were known for.
Judd glanced up from his espresso. “Remind me again, how many people are going to this concert tonight?”
Ava didn’t hesitate. “About 50,000. Sold out in minutes.”
Judd let out a low whistle. “And yet somehow, we managed VIP seats?”
Cindy smirked. “Ava made sure of it. She had this planned months ago.”
AJ, sitting across from Ava, grinned. “It’s Taylor Swift. You don’t just ‘hope’ for tickets, you strategize.”
They weren’t wrong. Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour had become a global phenomenon—an unstoppable pop culture tidal wave, breaking records at every turn. A billion-dollar tour spanning continents, with fans willing to cross oceans for a chance to see the icon in person. The Zurich stop was no exception.
For Ava, this wasn’t just another night out—it was the culmination of years of fandom. Her first-ever concert had been a Reputation Tour show in St. Louis when she was younger, and now, she was back, older, wiser, but no less starstruck.
The train pulled into Zurich Hauptbahnhof, the grand central station buzzing with Swifties decked out in sequins, cowboy boots, and friendship bracelets stacked up to their elbows. The city pulsed with energy. Banners hung from street lamps, pop-up merch stalls lined Bahnhofstrasse, and speakers blared Cruel Summer from every open café.
As they stepped onto the platform, Cindy glanced at Judd. “You know, Dr. O’s daughters are at this concert too.”
Judd chuckled. “The world really is small.”
Before they even checked into their rooms, Ava and AJ dragged them to the official merchandise pop-up. The line wrapped around the block, but the girls were unfazed.
“Non-negotiable,” Ava declared, clutching a limited-edition Zurich Eras Tour hoodie.
Judd raised an eyebrow at the prices. “For that much, I hope Taylor herself stitched the fabric.”
AJ grinned, swinging a tote bag over her shoulder. “Totally worth it.”
Hoodies, t-shirts, and Eras posters secured, they finally made their way to the hotel for a quick recharge before the main event.
As the sun began to dip behind Zurich’s skyline, the group merged into a sea of Swifties marching towards Letzigrund Stadium. The energy was electric—fans singing in the streets, groups swapping homemade friendship bracelets, strangers bonding over favorite albums.
Ava and AJ exchanged bracelets with fellow fans, a tradition that had taken the world by storm. Tiny beaded letters spelling out Fearless, Folklore, Midnight Rain now adorned their wrists.
Cindy, ever the optimist, nudged Ava. “You never know, maybe we’ll run into Travis Kelce.”
Ava snorted. “One in a million chance, but a girl can dream.”
Judd scanned the crowd, taking in the security detail, the stadium logistics. Even on a night of music and magic, his instincts stayed sharp. He had learned that danger often hid in plain sight, though tonight, the only mission was making sure the girls had the night of their lives.
Paramore kicked things off with a high-energy set, lead singer Hayley Williams commanding the stage with her signature fiery presence. Judd, always appreciative of classic rock, lit up when they launched into a blistering cover of Burning Down the House by Talking Heads.
“They’ve got taste,” he murmured to Cindy. “I’m buying their vinyl when we get back.”
Then, it happened.
The lights dimmed. The stadium erupted. And with an earth-shaking bass drop, Taylor Swift emerged.
Draped in a dazzling Lover-era bodysuit, microphone in hand, she soaked in the deafening roar before launching into Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince.
Ava lost it.
Fifty-thousand voices sang as one, an unbreakable chorus of devotion.
Taylor weaved through the Eras, a journey through time: from You Belong With Me, to Enchanted to All Too Well, Shake It Off, The Archer, and Karma.
With each song, her voice grew stronger, her presence commanding. Then, in a moment of ritual Swiftie magic, Taylor walked to the edge of the stage and removed her black 22 hat.
A hush fell over the crowd.
She scanned the front row, spotted a young girl clutching a homemade sign, and bent down, placing the hat on her head.
Ava clutched AJ’s arm. “That kid is never taking that off.”
Three and a half hours of pure magic later, the final chords of Karma rang out, and Taylor disappeared into the stage.
Ava was still in a daze as they weaved through the crowds spilling onto Zurich’s late-night streets. Her voice was hoarse from singing, her cheeks aching from smiling, and her heart full.
Back at the hotel, Cindy collapsed onto the bed. “Best night ever.”
Judd stretched, exhausted but content. “Alright, I get the hype.”
Ava and AJ were still buzzing, scrolling through videos, reliving every second.
“We did it,” Ava whispered, pulling her hoodie over her head. “We finally saw The Eras Tour.”
Tomorrow, they’d be on a flight to Dallas, back to the real world of missions, secrets, and espionage.
But tonight, for just a little longer, Ava was just a girl who loved Taylor Swift.
And it was perfect.
