I met a star: Queen St ideal place to meet your Kings

Herald reporter Tess Nichol as a teenager meeting Kings of Leon's Jared Followill (left) and Matthew Followill (right) in Auckland, 2006. Photo / supplied

They say you should never meet your idols, but try telling that to a 15-year-old girl in love with a rock band.

The time I not only met, but simultaneously touched, two members of Kings of Leon is -more than a decade later- one of the best moments of my life.

It was the summer after fifth form, and my friends and I were on the cusp of adulthood - or at least that's what it felt like at the time.

Six of us took the eight hour bus journey from Wellington to Auckland for our first Big Day Out, so excited we could barely contain ourselves.

Kings of Leon were playing and the thought that these four rock gods would be not only in our country, but in the same city as us, in the same arena as us, soon to be so close we might even lock eyes, was nearly too much to handle.

This was the band which made me love music, whose weird yowelling vocals and jangling guitars lit my teenage soul on fire and made me feel like the world was full of adventure, if I could only find it.

I was completely obsessed.

This was the band which made me love music, whose weird yowelling vocals and jangling guitars lit my teenage soul on fire.

Tess Nichol

By the time I met them I had taken to cutting out every interview or photo from every magazine I could get my hands on, even if it meant defiling library books.

I listened to their albums every single day at a volume that was definitely annoying for everyone else in the house and I knew every word by heart.

I've never quite felt the same about another band since, even though my interest in the Nashville family has waned as they have grown more successful, fulfilling their dream to become the next U2.

Wandering up Queen St back to our room at a backpackers that hot summer day, my friend and I suddenly spotted them.

Two surprisingly small men were walking toward us, long hair shaggy and wearing skin-tight jeans tucked into cowboy boots.

It was only half the band, the bassist and the lead guitarist, but that was more than enough for me.

My friend Ben, who had a camera on him for this exact reason - this was before smart phones were permanently glued to our hands - pushed me past my initial instinct to run away, bullying me into approaching them for a photo.

Heart pounding I asked if they would sign something, anything for me, and please would they let me take a photo too?

Obligingly but, it has to be said, not overly enthusiastically, they posed up and signed my arm.

I can't remember what we talked about but I do remember my arms shaking as I wrapped them around the backs of two of my idols.

Two days later I saw them again, all four this time, in the signing tent at Big Day Out.

I'd come prepared with their first CD at the ready and a huge grin on my face.

Reaching the front of the queue I saw Jared, the bassist, first in line to sign memorabilia for their masses of fans.

I leaned over to have him sign my CD, holding it at an angle so he could see the scribble on my arm, remember me from the other day, realise he was in love with me and take me on tour to live out my days as a rock wife.

He didn't recognise me.

I still have the CD though.