With two hours to spare, the A Fire Inside/Thursday/Coheed and Cambria concert sold out, leaving about a dozen self-acclaimed "goths" wallowing in self-pity in their dim rooms. I, on the other hand, was standing in line...
Punk Rawk and I had obtained tickets back in early January. Let's all have a big "Yay!" for fan club newsletters.
With little effort, her mother found a "shortcut" into the building. Thus allowing us to not either get tampled in the process of entering or freeze our little black-clad asses off.
We found our way onto the floor a full hour before the show began. After the security guards promptly ordered us to "behave" and have a seat, we rubbernecked until we found a group of people we knew. Seeing as we knew roughly 1 of every 4 people in the damned building, it wasn't that hard.
Klobb and Finghin welcomed us into their little group with open arms. Joking and mindless good times followed. After our legs started to go numb, the lights dimmed and Coheed took the stage.
I've only heard one, maybe two of their songs, so I didn't know what to expect in terms of crowd reaction. What happend was decidedly pleasant compared to some of the things we got ourselves into later.
Before I get too into this, I'll give you some background.
1. If pushed, push back.
2. If you want out: scream "Let me out, you whoes!" and slap people until they let you through.
3. Watch out for random crowds-surfers crashing down from above.
4. Avoid large asian (polynesian?) men.
There are two basic types of moshing/mosh pits.
1. Hard Core: Lots of flying fists, little regard for bodily harm. Most in this group stay about half-naked throughout most of the show.
2. Push/Punk: Jumbled mass of bodies writhing in time to the band. Lots of pushing and slamming of one body against about eight others at a time.
Now that the background is out of the way, we can move on.
During the Coheed show, Klobb showed us the ropes. Making sure that we didn't get too badly injured. Then he and Finghin weaseled their way to the front. Leaving us to the mercy of the masses.
Alas, we prevailed.
Not only did we mosh to our little heart's content, we made a few friends. One being the large asian (polynesian?) guy I went cheek to ass with in one pit.
With each band that went on-stage, something changed. Well, yeah. The Music. But other than that...
The crowd got rougher. When Thursday came up, some kids decided that it was time to Hard Core mosh. Three pits opened up around us. Leaving Punk Rawk and I stranded in the midst of flying fists and falling surfers. Finally finding our pace with them, we joined in one of the slower pits.
Thursday was amazing. The interaction with the fans was unsurpassed. When some kids fell down, they stopped and asked everyone to make sure that no one got seriously hurt. Moving all those who looked like they couldn't handle much more to the sides.
Insolent fool that I am: when they went off-stage, I wove my way to the front. Hoping to catch a small glimpse of the elusive Davey.
Even before the band took stage, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to make it through. I ended up about 6 feet from his microphone.
With the loss of water through sweat and not having drank that much before hand, I was near to fainting when everyone started to rush forward. Crushing us against the others until no one could breathe.
When the AFI finally took the stage, I had to basically climb on top of the the guy in front of me. Just to keep my breath.
Right as they launched into the third song, I had to get out of there. By the end of the night, I was covered in about a gallon of sweat. Less than half of it my own.
We stayed through to the end, mostly hovering around the edges of the crowd. Rehydrating ourselves for an astounding $2.25 a bottle.
Even though I nearly suffoctated beneath the weight of about 500 bodies, it had to be the best night of my pitiful little teenaged life.