Thirty minutes later I had finally retrieved my tickets. En route from the will-call window to my seat, at least sixteen girls approached me and offered anything from money to, well, use your imagination, for my media pass. Apologetically, I told them I wouldn’t be able to help them out and watched as they quickly spotted another person with a pass and began the next chase.

Entering the floor, I saw vendors selling bottles of water for five (yes, five) dollars and cookies for a ludicrous three. This is worse than Woodstock, I thought to myself. The line for food extended for over a hundred feet, and the concessionaire had a twinkle in his eye, no doubt due to the realization that he would earn enough to pay off his mortgage that very night.

Tonya Mitchell, the young opening act, offered typical broken-heart melodies; later, I discovered that she had been one of many put forth in this record industry attempt to gauge audience reaction to new signings. After she quietly left, the bigger names started to appear.

First up was Dream, a power female quartet with no member over 20 years old. The first act to actually stir excitement in the crowd, they sang enthusiastically and engagingly, playing hits such as the relentless “He Loves U Not.”

After Dream bid the audience farewell, BBMak took the stage. The cutesy trio wooed the audience with their mix of Backstreet pop and Matchbox 20 radio rock, playing familiar songs such as “Back Here” and “Still On Your Side.” With their smart, catchy melodies, it’s no wonder they’ve managed to keep the teen-pop population interested for over a year.

After wrapping things up with several more songs and a stadium-wide singing of “Happy Birthday” to the drummer, BBMak left the stage. On the large screens surrounding the stadium, the message “*NSYNC will appear in ___ minutes” appeared. How many? Five? Three? Are they on their way out?

“Thirty minutes! *NSYNC will appear in just thirty minutes!”

People reached for their checkbooks and headed to the concession stands. During the ensuing half hour, we were treated to previews of Lance Bass’ new film “On The Line” as well as ads featuring the band for Verizon and some brand of cookies. On a quick side note, the band’s maganement, in a startlingly obvious corporate move, allowed those who signed up for Verizon’s internet service get tickets before anyone else. (I won’t pass judgment on this, but, then again, I don’t think I need to.)

Time passed as the crowd eagerly anticipated the band, with some celebrity appearances in the audience occasionally causing excitement. After about twenty minutes, members of the crew discreetly walked past with five large boxes in which the boys were hiding, transporting them to the tower in the center of the arena.

Finally, the lights dimmed and a video appeared on the large screen describing the history of the band, with Joey Fatone dressed like a professor and offering narration. Together, we journeyed through their sordid past to their glorious present, leading into their most recent single, “Pop,” as the video concluded. Appearing in the center tower of the stadium, the boys walked over a bridge to the mainstage, winking and shaking hands all along the way.

A triumphant Justin Timberlake sang to the cynics: “Sick and tired of hearing all these people talk about / what’s the deal with this pop life and when is it gonna fade out? … / … doesn’t matter what clothes I wear and where I go and why.” It was a shining moment for teen-pop fans worldwide.

The band dipped into “Tearin’ Up My Heart” before singing “I Want U Back,” both from their self-titled debut record. All the while, they were walking to the edges of the stage, creating a surge of estrogen wherever they cast their gaze. The next song, “God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On You,” was performed on rising individual platforms; this was followed by “Space Cowboy,” sung from the backs of mechanical bulls. “Gone,” a new track, was introduced by a video in which Timberlake, looking more vaudeville than ever, tries but fails to get an “I Love You” from the apple of his eye.

In “Up Against The Wall,” another new song, the choreography bonanza continued: the group, clad in Velcro, jumped from a trampoline onto a wall to which they adhered, singing all the while. Doing “The Game Is Over” with similar extravagance, the group became part of a video game on the stadium screen.

Taken for what it was, the show was excellent: the boys executed their moves and lines perfectly; the choreography was very impressive; and the songs were all sung with finesse. The nearly fatal flaw, however, was its size. For all but those closest to the stage, the boys were often out of visual range. In addition, the open air diminished the audio intensity. Thus, despite any critical mistakes, the enormity of the show demanded an active effort on the part of the audience to remain engaged.

Nonetheless, with their unusually strong vocal faculties, undeniable charm, and intense stage presence, their continued success seems inevitable. Then again, the Titanic was deemed unsinkable.

Fare well boys, and watch out for icebergs.