The Concert

A friend of mine drove up (or over, or down, or whatever) from Madison to visit me for a few days. Part of the visit was going to see her favorite band, a “hillbilly rock” group called “Lucero.” I haven’t been to a concert or anything of the sort since high school, so I was a bit nervous, and excited to see a good band. They were playing at the first night of an outdoor street fair, called the DIY festival—a big craft fair with a lot beer.

The night did not start off on the best note. We got a late start from the house, and the unfamiliar roads eventually led me to run a red light (although Callie and I agreed, it was a confusing intersection). But we were determined to have a good time. We watched the last songs of the opening band, and snuck into the front as their fans filed out, but before Lucero’s fans made the journey from the Beer Garden to the stage. We had an amazing spot. We were touching the stage—front and center. We made plans to take the lead singer’s beer glass at the end of the night.

Then, the first sign of trouble. The ringleaders of a drunk group of 19 year olds who drove “all the way from Ohio” started screaming their love for the various members of the band. This love quickly turned to angry impatience as the band took “too long” to set up. While we were standing next to the ringleader’s dreamily intoxicated girlfriend, he kept yelling “are you tuning a harp?” at the bass player. Apparently, this is a hilarious heckle in Ohio.

But the show began. We were excited to dance and sing along to the music. After the first song, the audience got excited too. The crowd began to surge into us in waves, pushing us against the stage. The band made several announcements that if the crowd surfing did not stop, the cops would shut down the show. The drunk Ohio fans started a mini mosh pit (which Callie and I strongly resented being involved in). The ringleader shoved us, and Callie shoved him back, which apparently affronted his honor. He cursed Callie out, and proceeded to attempt to dump his drinks on us. We stuck it out, as the mosh pit grew behind us, a throbbing mass of elbows and knees that had the remarkable ability to always hit you in the kidneys. The final decision to move came as I looked up as a pair of feet were coming towards my head.

We ended up enjoying the rest of the concert hiding behind the speakers, still occasionally being hit by the crowd and dodging the beer being thrown at the stage.

Afterwards, Callie informed me that it was the craziest show she had ever been to. She felt bad that this was my first concert in such a long time and we spent more time avoiding certain death than listening to the music. I said it was okay, it’d give me something to blog about.