Twenty four hours before the VMAs were set to kick off in Long Island, New York, I received a fateful email. The website, 1iota.com, is a little known gateway to attending classic US live tapings like Jimmy Fallon, Stephen Colbert and Kelly Clarkson’s talk shows. But tonight, it provided me with the unhinged opportunity to attend the MTV Video Music Awards. It’s a night I’ve grown up with in my pop culture peripheral. Oh so American and therefore oh so out of reach. But a conveniently timed holiday to the Big Apple was the only (albeit expensive) requirement. The VMA ticket itself? Free as can be. 

It all came down to being randomly selected. You could apply for all the guest options, which included: “seated superfan,” meaning up in the nosebleeds but certainly comfortable. “Seat filler,” where you mingle among the stars and take their place to keep the venue looking full for TV while they're off partying backstage. “Red carpet fan,” to scream as the celebs walk in. And finally, my gruelling but worthwhile position of “pit fan”. 

The email invitation involved an outfit mood board and strict instructions to arrive at least five hours prior to the event kicking off at 8pm. The team stressed that they had offered out tickets in excess of capacity – hence the recommendation to arrive even earlier if we could. So, at 1pm, I commenced a three-train journey through to Long Island City, with similarly spruced up 20-somethings boarding with each closer stop.

Arriving at a car park close to UBS Arena, we had our ticket codes scanned and were ushered into rows and rows of fold out chairs, fortunately under a generous gazebo. I chatted to those seated nearby, many of which were puzzled at my ability to attend without even living in the city. 

Around 4.30pm, they gave us a spiel before moving us into the arena. They stressed there would be celebrities and that we shouldn’t grab them just because of that fact. I was impressed with this trust-based approach, and everyone swore they wouldn’t do such a thing. Why get this far to be thrown out at the last hurdle?

Lastly (and most shockingly) they told us we wouldn’t be able to access our phones until the show finished at 11pm. As we entered they were placed into strong fabric pouches bound with the magnetic anti-theft tags you find on clothes in stores. We all oohed and aahed at the gigantic inflatable Moonman suspended above the arena, and commented on what might lay behind the barriers on stage concealing the performance sets.

From then on, there was no leaving the pit to use the bathroom. Nor was there any kind of food available to eat. Of course if you desperately required one of these basic human needs, it would be granted. But at a cost - your precious place near the front.

Come 7.45pm, we were concerned at the lack of seats filled in the room. The mosh pit was heaving, but how could the wide shots possibly look any good without a full crowd? Clearly we spoke too soon. Around 30 seconds before they went live, the big names appeared - Camila Cabello, Halsey, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan and, of course, Taylor Swift with her pals Jack Antonoff, Post Malone and Margaret Qualley in tow.

They were all seated in the front row, maybe 20 metres from where I stood (and had been for three hours now). Watching their exchanges and kind waves to our floor felt as exclusive as it did surreal.

The show began and we cleared a path for Eminem to walk through for his opening performance, as we were instructed half an hour prior. It felt as though we were all so eager to behave - perhaps courtesy of the camaraderie we’d developed in the absence of our phones. 

The performances were scattered throughout the arena. Shawn Mendes was up on a platform in the seated crowd. Sabrina sitting up on a diamond dangling above my very head. Katy Perry used almost the entire arena. Meanwhile, my main concern was flipping my gaze between the performance, and Taylor Swift and Suki Waterhouse singing their lungs out just behind us. 

Seeing Chappell Roan win the well-deserved Best New Artist award was a real highlight. Her giddiness was infectious, and everyone in the crowd seemed genuinely stoked for her.

One of the biggest surprises was how little time the artists actually spend in the crowd. Sure, it must be exhausting knowing you're on show to millions as you sit, but it's a testament to the movie magic that makes it appear like they never move a muscle. 

And while the A-listers had the luxury of seats, we spent the entire night on our feet - so the last hour was admittedly brutal. Fortunately, the kind VMA staff offered some sage advice during the commercial breaks. “Bend your knees”

Finally, they called cut, and people shimmied out of the venue. An MTV worker unlocked our phone pouches, and we quickly snapped some evidence that we were in attendance. Despite requests for some post-show photoshoots, we were swiftly ushered to the door. “Wow they lasted three hours without their phones, it’s a miracle,” I heard a worker mutter sarcastically.

And so began the journey back home, into the humid New York evening, along the American railroad with a crossbody bag full of holographic confetti.