Editor’s Note: A Farewell to Ozzy, From a Hill Outside Berlin

by Pulp Mag

Ozzy Osbourne died two days ago, and while the world mourns the Prince of Darkness, I’m thinking about a hill in the middle of the woods just outside Berlin, where I once tried to see him—and completely failed.

It was summer 2016, and I was on a Eurotrip with my boyfriend (who's now my husband). We had bought tickets to Black Sabbath’s "The End" tour—Ozzy's last concert in Berlin, set in Waldbühne, this massive open-air amphitheater carved into the forest. It sounded legendary, magical. And it would’ve been… if we’d made it in.

We were late—so late. I don’t even remember why. But I remember sprinting up that hill in full goth makeup, black eyeliner, fishnets, the works, my boots slipping on the dirt trail as I heard Iron Man blasting through the trees. I was not going to miss this. Somehow, I made it in. No one stopped me. I turned around, triumphant—ready to celebrate with my boyfriend—only to see he hadn’t followed. He was at the bottom, waving at me, yelling something.

I ran back down. Out of breath, confused, eyeliner sweating down my cheeks like a mascara river. “The tickets were already scanned,” he said. “They're fake. Or resold. I don’t know. They said we can’t go in.”

Just like that, it was over. We had lost all our money. Missed the show. Ozzy was somewhere above us, shrieking through the speakers, and I was sobbing on that damn hill, raccoon-eyed in the middle of the German woods.

I’ll never forget the guy working the venue who refused to help us—cold, indifferent, told us to move along. But I’ll also never forget the two guys who saw me crying and actually offered to help. There was no phone signal, no way to get a cab, but they managed to call us an Uber. We ended up in this strange restaurant nearby, trying to make sense of what had just happened, still hearing faint echoes of Sabbath from the forest.

That was Ozzy. Even from far away, even from the hill, even in complete chaos—he was unforgettable.

Rest in peace, Ozzy. You were always larger than life.
Even when I couldn’t quite get in to see it.