You'll be in the audience.
I'll be on stage.
Groupies in the front row clawing fruitlessly, desperately up at me.
You'll wave your banner.
I'll spot you; wave back.

I'll leap into the aisle and run up the stairs towards you.
All heads will turn; where am I going?
I run to your row, but you're in the middle.
You always did have to be awkward.
So I squeeze past all the seated people. They're amazed that I'm so close to them, but