The next time that the four of us were at a show was in the spring, once again to see MCR, but this time, their friends Bleed the Dream were also playing. It was a mini festival produced by the same guy who put together Warped Tour. Being as uncool as I was, I didn’t realize until they explained it to me later that this music industry big wig was the guy we had spoken to in the parking lot who looked way to old to be at this show and dressed that way.
While we were in line this time, we were very early, but at least it was cold, so it wasn’t so bad. We were in good spirits, trying to make conversation with the roadies as they passed with equipment. I wound up striking up a conversation with a guy with platinum blonde hair and leopard print pants who had carried by an equipment case with Veruca Salt written on it. I asked him if he was in Veruca Salt because I didn’t think they were supposed to be there, and he said no, their band had just bought it used and never bothered to paint over it.
He wasn’t a roadie; he was the lead singer of Opiate for the Masses, a metal band out of Phoenix. A little more conversation revealed that he and I could very well be cousins. And just like that, I had my cool points. I had a really hot cousin that I never knew about who was the lead singer of a metal band. What was really great was that he played along. He even introduced me as his long lost cousin once or twice.
This time, I was able to be right up front for MCR, and it was awesome. The only bad part about what was otherwise a really great concert was the fact that I am 5’3” and when you are in the front and people are crowd surfing, it’s your job to push them over to the security guards. That doesn’t work out so well when you are shorter than everyone else around you because your height creates a hole and the crowd surfers fall on you.
Therefore, I’m not a real big fan of crowd surfing, but I’ll admit that some of that could be angst that I’ve never been able to do it, because I’m kind of heavy (not that that stops some people). I understand why you would want to do it, and I even support your right to. I don’t even mind if you want to do it more than once at the same show. It’s your right and I’m pretty cool about it – until the same 15 year old in hot pink and black striped mall punk clothes nearly breaks my neck by falling on me for the 15th time during the first set.
At that point, I have to wonder who the assholes are in the back that keep picking her up are and why they are doing it. After you come over my head ten times, my patience with you wears thin and I’m not inclined to be nice anymore. I have been known to punch people as they pass over my head, or to grab a handful of love handle or back fat and twist. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but it get aggravating. But maybe I’m just mad because I’ve never done it. One day I’ll see if it’s all it’s cracked up to be.
The last time that I saw the three of them at a show was that summer at Warped Tour. We had big plans to go to Voodoo Fest in the fall, but, ya know, Hurricane Katrina kind of fucked up those plans for everyone. Warped Tour was interesting. I didn’t pal around with them, I had brought my friend Shelly and she and I hung out that day, although we all met up to see MCR and Opiate for the Masses. I was really impressed that Ron remembered me and even more surprised when he cried “Cousin!” upon seeing me. Finally, a little street cred.
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