In Other Words
Created | Updated Oct 10, 2003
On Thursday, May 22nd, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to nearly have my bowels run out through my nose. Yay!
Okay, let me explain. On that day I went to a 'Good Charlotte' concert and was jumping up and down so much it felt like my bowels were going to run out through my nose.
The actual trip to the concert was interesting, to say the least. And in fact the people I went with were interesting1 as well. They weren't my normal group of friends; they were the boozing drugging partying OLDER people. Terrifying? Yes. Very. But I really wanted to GO!!
The first day was hardly noteworthy, but I'll note it anyway. What should have been a three hour car ride was made into two hours and 15 minutes because the maniac driver chose to go 90mph on the 75mph interstate. So there I was, white-knuckled and horrified, clinging to my seatbelt as we careened down I-80 at speeds my mother wouldn't dream of reaching.
The rest of the day went so-so, until that night when these bright, and might I add underage, people decided to whip out the alcohol. 'You won't think down on us, will you Katie?' they asked as they stumbled around the apartment. 'No,' I say. I wanted to add, 'I don't look down on stupidity, I feel sorry for it.' but I decided that was a comment best left for when they aren't under the influence of vodka. So while they were one by one passing out in random spots about the apartment, I was rollerblading indoors, watching ballet on late-night TV, eating pringles and laughing at how moronic they looked. Then I slept.
Day two brought headaches, hangovers, and hunger. So I walked to the grocery store and bought myself a healthy part of my complete balanced breakfast, complete with all the essentials necessary for my survival; pizza rolls and Mt. Dew. Then it was off to the mall where I spent a very large amount of money in a very short amount of time. But I did get a shirt with a stormtrooper on it, so that made it ALL worth it. Because, like, a sense of style is like, so last month. I'll condense the next few hours into: it rained, we got wet, and there was a car accident. Which delayed our concert-going by an hour. During the wait for those people with us involved in the wreck, there was a lot of cussing, yelling, and losing of tickets. But I fired a couple of warning shots into the air with my AK-47 and everyone calmed down pretty quickly. And so we were off to the concert.
After I walked in the door my whole definition of 'weird people' changed completely. These weren't your average weird people, oh NO! These were the Marylin Manson-esque weird people! Complete with red mohawk, black trench coat, weed, and beer! What a nice combination. Apparently many of my definitions were changing that night, because I had never experienced loud until I walked in the auditorium. As I sit and think of the right word to describe it, all I can think of is 'woah', and 'ouch'. As we ventured to find our seats I kept periodically sticking my finger in my ear to check if it was bleeding yet.
The music was great, but one continual thing I noticed was that every band was always telling us to 'Give it up' for the previous band. So we all applauded for the previous band, even though we had applauded them all four times they said 'Thank you, and goodnight!' anyway. I was 'Giving it up' so much I began to feel violated. I felt bad for the last band, New Found Glory, who had to do 'Give it ups' for three other bands at least four times, making a grand total of 12 'Give it ups'. So lets give it up for their persistence.
It wasn't until the near end of the concert that we decided to display our vast intelligence and actually join everyone on the mosh floor. With the sweat. And beer. And pot. And puke. Not to mention the decibel level we'd encounter. Needless to say, I was a little apprehensive. But we went down anyway, and I soon realized the volume of the band was nothing compared to the volume of the screaming audience. One person in particular directly behind me took joy in SCREAMING IN MY EAR at the end of EVERY song. I wished I still had my AK-47 on me. Before long, it was over. I wandered about aimlessly amongst the masses for a bit, trying to slosh some of my brain fluid back into my skull, and tried asking my friend Zach where everyone else was, but I didn't get very far.
ME: Where is everyone?
ZACH: What?
ME: Where is everyone?!
ZACH: What?!
ME: Where IS everyone??!!
ZACH: Oh, no thanks. I went before the concert.
Right. My ears are still buzzing. When we finally got back to the apartment, I fell asleep on the couch while everyone else played ludicrous drinking games.
'HaHA! You gotts an 8! That's 8 gulpsses!'
'Aaaw man, I gotta peeeee!'
'You can't do THAT till you draw a 7!!'
'Well Sh*t.'
Aaah, the coveted 7 card. I would have joined in, but that game seemed far too complex and intellectual for me to ever be able to comprehend. That and I didn't really want to get sloshed beyond all intelligible thought.
So what did I learn from this concert-going experience?
- Earplugs would have been handy
- If you're going to drink, drink BEFORE the concert, the mosh pits will hurt less.
- Contact Buzz's are unavoidable
- Don't eat pizza rolls for breakfast. Can you say Heartburn?!2
Let's 'Give it up' for those Punk-Rock bands; they gave me an experience I'll never forget, no matter how much therapy I pay for to try.
Your Little h2g2'er,
