All together in a shrill worthy of Hollywood B horror, the crowd feverishly pushes and jostles for position as the lights go out. In less than 10 seconds the slow rumble of the bass overpowers the normal beating of my heart, I feverishly grip the rail with little success. On one side I see several small girls pushing their way through the crowd as if they were 250 pound Marine commandos cutting a swath through the jungle. To the other side a star struck man in his late thirties or early forties. Mullet moving in slow succession with his outer layer of couch surfing blubber and a half measure out of sync from the music. The hair on the back of my neck now standing at attention, fear and exhilaration blend with physical exhaustion and light headed ecstasy. A cheese grater motion attacks on all sides, mullet man now slightly dazed and smelling of day old beer and sweat surrenders and makes an escape but can’t move but maybe a few inches in either direction. Not likely what he saw or experienced at the Lynard Skynard concerts of the 70’s.
Pushing and pulling force a 90 pound girl to the floor, all in unison we sway with one hand on the nearest person still standing and another on the 90 pound girl to keep her from being trampled by the crowd. With every ounce of energy we slowly pull her back to her feet after several minutes of slow motion chaos. As her face emerges from the depths of the crowd we witness the damage done. Blood flows freely from her face, not aware which orifice is spewing this crimson flood and not caring we push her to the barrier and force her to the security guards. Composure gained, cheese grater in full effect, mullet man on the verge of collapse, we continue to push, pull and sway. Three songs into the full set I bail and find my way to the sound stage and nearly collapse myself. I hang on the rail protecting the sound crew until I am able to breathe without the urge to puke. The song being performed: Calm Like A Bomb.
Photo credits go to: eyball.fm