It was one of those chaotic travel days when everything felt slightly off — the fluorescent lights too bright, the announcements too loud, the coffee too weak. The Bay City Rollers had flown in expecting a low-key arrival, a quick exit, and maybe a few curious glances from travelers who recognized them. Instead, they stepped into a scene that looked like the opening shot of a concert documentary: screaming, signs waving, security scrambling, and a wall of fans running toward them with the urgency of a stampede.
For a few stunned seconds, the band members froze. No one had told them to expect a crowd. No local promoter had mentioned a gathering. And yet there they were — dozens of teenagers rushing the arrival gate, shouting, reaching, chanting a name that didn’t sound quite like theirs. One member leaned toward another and muttered, “Are we sure this is for us?”
It wasn’t.
Within minutes, the truth unraveled in hilarious, slow-motion confusion: the fans were waiting for another band scheduled to land around the same time. A scheduling mix-up had placed both flights on the same arrival board, and the Rollers had walked straight into the wrong welcome party.
But the fans didn’t realize the mistake immediately. The tartan scarves, the haircuts, the youthful energy — it was close enough to spark a full meltdown of excitement. One girl shoved a record toward them, breathless, begging for an autograph they didn’t feel quite right signing. Another tried to hug two members at once. Security, unsure what was happening, rushed forward as though this were entirely normal, which only made the misunderstanding worse.
The funniest part came when one of the boys attempted to explain. He raised his hands, smiling awkwardly, and said, “We’re not who you think we are!” But the declaration was swallowed by shrieks that grew even louder, as if the fans believed he was teasing them. Someone shouted, “Stop joking!” Someone else yelled, “We love you!” They were swept into a frenzy they hadn’t caused and couldn’t stop.
Eventually, a very flustered airport staff member ran over with a clipboard, gasping out the explanation between apologies. The fans looked stunned — then mortified — then oddly delighted. Some burst into laughter. Some groaned dramatically. One girl covered her face and said, “Oh my God, wrong band!” while another shrugged and said, “Well… they’re cute too.”
And just like that, the chaos softened into something strangely sweet. A few fans stayed to chat once the initial confusion died down. They asked about tours, complimented their outfits, snapped a few impromptu photos. The Rollers, amused and slightly relieved, took it all in stride. One member later said it was the easiest fan interaction they ever had — “All the enthusiasm, none of the expectations.”
When the actual band arrived minutes later, the crowd shifted like a migrating flock, leaving the Rollers standing in the middle of the terminal with luggage in hand, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Years later, this mistaken moment became one of their favorite stories — a reminder that fame, in all its strange forms, sometimes arrives by accident… and occasionally belongs to someone else entirely.