Monday, May 31, 2010

Let's We Did Start a Riot

I know you have been *EAGERLY* anticipating my Concert Follow-Up Blog. Your fragile little minds have been burning with questions. Did she sneak her daiquiri in? Did they take pictures? Did she get arrested for sneaking in the daiquiri? Will she be part of another assault trial?

And the answers to those questions are:

No, but just barely

As with all good concerts, there was the Fun People Watching Portion:

*All the uber intense goth kids - and really, to be wearing all black, jeans, AND a stocking HAT in 90-degree heat with a billion percent humidity? That's commitment to your angst, my friends.

*The girl who wore her fangs AND her special-order contact lenses. I thought about shouting "OH MY GOD! VAMPIRE!" but then decided she'd just be happy I did...

*The guy with a GIANT home-done tattoo on his back that was "13 1/2" - We all pondered what, exactly, that meant. I mean, we all know that 13 is a pretty bad-ass number. There are certainly gangs that use it, right? This guy was a scrawny white dude though - and didn't exactly look like a gang member. But the half....what does the HALF MEAN!? Like maybe you're one HALF better than the OTHER 13s? I don't even know. I didn't want to ask....mainly because he was standing in the line that we were walking around. (Hey, judge all you want, but that was a couple hours of my life I didn't want to lose.)(And I was with The Man and his Giant Football Friend, so I wasn't too concerned.)

*The little 9 year old who was so committed to rocking that he had to brace himself against the seat in front of him. I wish I had a video. You, young sir, know how it's done.

*The skank hooker skeeze hooch herpes woman who revealed her mediocre boob job every time the roadie said "mike check." Yeah. That totally happened. It was like a drinking game, only instead of doing shots when she heard the phrase, she pulled her swim suit (doesn't that really say it all?) aside. There are things, friends, I don't want to know about my fellow concert goers. If they have a medical condition with their nipples? Yep. That's one of them. I'm *still* trying to bleach that image out of my brain. Have some self-respect (or less pills) and keep your damned inverted nipples out of my eyes!

*The couple in front of us who were packing a large ziplock bag of Chex Mix. I mean, I'm all for planning, but just how hungry did you think you'd be to need that much Chex Mix?! And, you didn't see me sneaking a ziplock of daiquiri in, did you? I mean, with the double zipper and reinforced plastic, I totally should have tried that...

For Your Viewing Pleasure:

Here is a picture of The Man and me, probably watching Bullet for My Valentine, which while a great band name, not so much my favorite.

The lady in purple in front me of was Chex Mix Woman, for anyone curious.

And, because I love you like you're my own, here is a video of Three Days Grace:

Didn't you just feel like you were there? I know! Sorry about the sound quality - basically he just yelled something like "How are you doing Indianapolis!" or that sort of thing... We should have actually taped a SONG or something, not just the intro.

But what you're *really* waiting for is the "How We Almost All Got Escorted Out or To Jail" portion of today's blog! See, I just HAD to mention an assault trial didn't I? Tempting fate much? Apparently I was. Thanks Fate.

We all got up before the final band to take an Adult Potty Break. The Man's friend got a beer while waiting for us to return from the ladies' room. (And if you've ever tried to hit the ladies', you know that there are lines, and it's not a quick trip.)
We got out and saw The Man and his friend standing there, so we rejoined them. I noticed a thin, sketchy-looking guy talking to them and I thought, Oh maybe they ran into someone they know. Shortly that thought was followed by, "that guy doesn't look like anyone they'd hang out with." Hmmmm....

Then, I saw the sketchy guy fly through the air as if shoved by a large former-linebacker. Which he had been. Ohhhhh, this just took a turn.

I looked at The Man, who walked right over, crazy glint in his eye and thought, this is going to take a REALLY bad turn soon. And it did. I should point out that I was confused, stunned and vaguely aware that I'd probably have to post bail soon. Or have bail posted. Bad. Bad bad bad.

Apparently, Sketchy Guy had run into The Man's friend and then, in the special way of drunks everywhere, gotten mad AT him for his own error. Then, he began yelling, again in the way of drunken morons "What are you Gonna Do?" - at which point he put his hand in our friend's face or something, and that's when I saw him leave terra firma.

So. The good news, Drunky McRetarderson had a sober(er) friend who didn't want his buddy to die. The bad news, *another* drunken moron who shoved past me and the other wife to get the party further started.

Thus there was one guy saying "hey, sorry, he's an idiot, we're leaving" and another guy saying "let's go! Right now!"

THAT genius put his hand in The Man's face. That genius got his arm smacked.

It was eerie. Normally, The Man has a quick temper. He's hardcore Irish. I blame genetics. His grandfather was throwing people out of his bar into his 70s. I have no hope of passivity. *However* - when facing a large contingent (because the drunks had friends. And they were all, as Kid Rock once said, straight out' the trailer.) of possibly violent (although small and possibly meth addled) punks, he got preternaturally calm. Which was almost more disturbing.

Finally though, before anyone could be injured (and I was NOT worried about The Man, nor his friend - because while The Man is muscular, he's also wiry and quick, his friend is muscular and huge.) the cops came over and took the instigators away. The second-drunk-on-the-scene was struggling with the officer, and looking at me and yelling - so finally I found my voice again and just waggled my fingers at him and said "Go, go back to jail, where they probably just released you. Have a good time."

I know. Helpful. Thank God I hadn't spoken up sooner because then, the Beat Down would have been inevitable. Know thyself right? And thyself's quick verbal outbursts rarely get anyone in *less* trouble...

We were all a bit disturbed and upset - and while we did end up staying for the last act (which was a good show), I'm just over it. I'm over the drunks, the sluts, the drunken sluts, the idiots, the stupidly hostile and people who want to ruin someone else's good time. I can honestly say I've seen just about every band I've ever wanted to see, so while I won't swear off concerts for good, I'm pretty sure I'm done for now.

Comments, questions, eh?