Writer. Fighter. Lover. Dreamer. The doctor's say she's generally functional.

Friday, January 15, 2010

In a Green Haze

Last night was Green Day and how epic it was!

Started off at Brewerkz where I spent a couple of hours waiting in anticipation, thinking about the silly people in the queue who believe that going in first means you get a place in the front. Have you BEEN in a moshpit before? The poor things.

Bought a wonderful shirt for $40 and the cunning salesgirl almost got me to buy a stubbie holder as well. They know my weaknesses.

My friends weren't keen to get immersed in the insanity that was the moshpit so i ventured in myself and very unexpectedly met Chrissie from last.fm who recognised me from pictures on this blog. Amidst thousands of people! very cool. But we got separated at some point.

I made (fought, shoved, squeezed, bit, slaughtered) my way to the front and had a perfect view, save for an American Idiot who was in front of me. It's important you know the details:

This man was more than 1 head taller than me, 2 times my age and probably 3 times my size. Now in all the moshpits I've been in, and there have been many, most guys are happy to let girls/shorter people get in front of them, given that they can see perfectly well whether or not you're in front of them. But this ogre, he was something else. When he realised I was trying to get in front of/next to him so I'd have an unobstructed view, he started getting violent.

This includes jabbing me with his elbow, suddenly stepping backwards to push me away with his large self, kicking backwards and eventually, putting his ENTIRE body weight onto my poor little foot. All done intentionally. Now, I'd worked too long and hard to get to the front and wasn't about to give in.

Random male moshers around me tried to help as what was going on was obvious, but to no avail. We(me and helpful strangers) tried to get this guy out but the bouncers just responded with "well, what can I do?" expressions.

I was just about seething at this point, totally outraged by this creature. 1. Everything he was doing was entirely unnecessary 2. Dude, I'm a girl. So with all the strength I had, I punched the bastard in his back. But he was so huge he barely felt it. Which led to more frustration on my part.

It was a very Fight Club moment - me, dripping with sweat (not all was my own, moshpit y'know), hair in my eyes, eyes tearing from pain, angrier than I can recall ever being(Billie Joe says violence is an energy).

The final straw came when he bent over, so that his large bum would send me flying into the distance. He was laughing as he did this. I deftly stepped back, and taking advantage of his lessened height, spat onto the back of his bald head (Billie Joe says silence is the enemy).

At this point, I decided it was in my best interest to escape. Just as I turn to squeeze away, he grabs my elbow and pulls me back, about to deliver what might have been a fatal blow to my head. The bouncers suddenly remember what they're there for and in a split second - probably just in time - he's pulled out from behind the barriers, fist still clenched, never to be seen again.

Billie Joe says
Don't test me,
Second guess me,
Protest me,
you. will. disappear.

Nice stranger gives me a comforting half-hug and tells me not to worry as he's gone now.

Besides that misadventure, Green Day was awesome. I think my favourites were Basket Case, Jesus of Suburbia, Minority (but of course!) and well, so many others. I love being in the thick of the madness and Green Day made it all that much better.

They were all really into it and obviously gave it all they had. Billie loved how crazy the crowd was, which made us all that much crazier. And when he sang with acoustic guitar and his lovely voice, oh! What joy.

Intense, epic, awesome.
I'm in a Green Day state of mind - probably will be for a while.

Time of my life. =)



2 comments:

  1. Oh my! So glad he never had a chance to land the blow.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You miss, have balls of steel. And thanks for helping chrissie out alittle. :)

    ReplyDelete