September 6th, 2010
Saturday was an Airsoft day. I took the M-14 I got from a pawn shop for $25.00, and it performed perfectly. After coming home and crashing, I decided to go for a walk to scout a little for a prank I'm pulling later this week. While wondering, I discovered that there would be a rock concert later, so I decided to go change into a shirt I had made that said "UTAH STATE ZOMBIE INFECTION SURVIVOR" because that seemed like something that would be cool to wear to my first rock concert. When I came back, I was very glad I had chosen that shirt, as it attracted the attention of a cute girl named Ashley. She looked Korean, or maybe Japanese, but at least a generation removed from her immigrant ancestors. I was hoping that I could get her number, but as the night wore on it looked less and less likely.
Now, I realize that there are, in fact, other kids my age who haven't gone to rock concerts. For most of these kids either the phrase "instance" has a deeply WOWing personal meaning or they were home-schooled. When I discovered that I wouldn't have to pay the usually outrageous prices I've heard being paid for attendance at such events, I decided to get some proper pop-culturing.
The first band, who's name included the phrase "Shut Up," was musically unimpressive to me, but obviously the horde of "my esteemed peers" around me was really feeling the spirit of the music. As the muscular, long-haired electric guitarist sprung up on stage and let fly with the first cords, a general cheer eeked out from the crowd, but quickly subsided. The band, who was just playing the intro for the main feature, recognized their roll of getting people all riled up. Although their tunes weren't my type, I was impressed by their ability to get the crowd to start cheering, if not for their music, than at least through their encouragement and enthusiasm. They were continuously flinging statements to the effect that we were the greatest crowd they'd ever had. As I looked at the swirling tangle of arms and bouncing faces screaming around me, I thought to myself "I believe it."
As the next song began to erode my eardrums, a drunk that looked to be in the early stages of being infected by the zombie-creating Solanum virus shoved his way past me, and began to violently shove the people around me. I don't how such a sensible and responsible thought could occur to anyone at such an event, but my first thought when I saw this drunk start to shove and hit the people around him, was to get a police officer. This thought was quickly quashed when I realized that this might be the start of what I had heard termed a "Mosh Pit," and since more people started shoving and pushing, and nobody else around me (except the cute girl from before) looked shocked, I was content to look on in fascinated horror. Amid all the shoving and pushing, one kid did a flying sidekick that looked like it was straight out of a Chuck Norris video. I decided that the one short little guy standing between me and the mosh wasn't enough, and I did some shoving of my own to move back a bit.
As the crowd-mentality willed me along a seemingly random course, I found myself blocking the view of an attractive girl about 10" shorter than me. I began to tease her about blocking her view. Flirting is difficult when you have to shout (it takes some of the more fine subtleties out), but judging from her giggles and grin I wasn't at too much of a handicap. As the throbbing beat continued to jar my frame, I felt relieved that I might at least get a date out of all this insanity.
The lead singer of the band made two very interesting comments in between songs. One was when he swore. He caught himself and apologized, as the crowd cheered, some because he swore, and some because he apologized. He said that it was a miracle that he had made it half way through the concert without swearing... Only in UTAH! The second was the comment that he had been all over the nation, and that by a very long shot, the girls in Utah were more attractive than anywhere else. I couldn't help but reflect on the reasons for this, and wonder if he would ever really understand why that was.
After the first band quit, I found a slight reprieve during which I could "get to know this chick." Her name was McKenzie. I found out she was a lunch lady at the High School, and a hairdresser. I asked if she would like to go get a Slurpee with me after. She smiled and with a cute little jump she said "Sure!"
As "The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus" mounted the stage, I realized that the slightly unkempt look of the previous band was just to desensitize me. Once or twice during their performance, I thought for a moment that some crazy girl had jumped up on stage, only to realize again that it was a guy under that flowing mop of hair. By this point, I was suffering from dehydration, and much to my relief, my new friend McKenzie announced that her friend had some pizza and pop, and we just had to shove our way through the crowd to the back to get some. As I began clearing us a path, I began to understand a little bit of the appeal of shoving people to the rhythm of a throbbing bass. Refueled by her friend, we plowed back into the morass.
As the concert drew to a close, the drummer tore off his shirt, and began to parade around the stage. I shouted to my new companion "Hey, do you want to see a slightly overweight drummer without a shirt?" (She was too short to have a good view). She said yes, and I offered to boost her up on my shoulders. My last moments at my first rock concert were spent watching a topless, tattooed drummer toss his sticks to the crowd, while an attractive hairdressing lunch lady perched on my shoulders to get a better view.
After fleeing the crowd with our hands clasped, we got Slurpees, and then randomly decided to take my canoe to a nearby lake. As the Midnight hour approached, I started thinking about where I was... Canoeing with a cute lunch lady I met at a rock concert. A good way to finish out a week, I think.