I originally posted this on my Facebook page back in 2010. Enjoy.
Arctic Monkeys: How Two Old Farts Survived
Maybe the fact that they were originally not letting any more people into the general admission pit area should have been a sign. But when the crowd of young hipsters said fuck it and rushed over the barriers after the opening band had left, we were right there with them, jumping the rail and nearly breaking a hip in the process.
Pretty quickly we were shoulder-to-shoulder, nose-to-back of head, ass-to-crotch, with all the walking bags of hormones. I'm not sure if I felt more claustrophobic or old at this point. I told Carlos not to look back at the crushing ocean of youth behind us, because he'd likely shit himself with the realization that we might die tonight.
After some back and forth with the tides of the adjusting crowd, holding our heads up so we could breathe, the band came on and thankfully opened with a slower number. Short-lived calm before the storm is all it was. Next song was mosh time and I for one, left my age on the floor. I won't deny that after a few pogo jumps, I'd have to stop, catch my breath and fight back the heart attack. But, damn it, I soldiered on. And when the young hooligans showed up and were getting a little more rowdy, I was not afraid! Well, maybe a little. Who am I kidding, I was terrified, but it was kill or be killed so I had to match their level of moshitude, which was no easy feat.
The iPhone came out sporadically and I got some decent shots, but the faster songs were impossible to capture for fear of losing my precious. By the end of the show, I left whatever vestiges of my youth I had left on that floor. I knew for a fact that I'd be sore today. What I didn't expect was to be woken up at 5am by a fucking satanic Charlie horse in my right calf that had me screaming like a little girl and Lesley laughing like one.
Imagine if it had actually been a metal show! Good thing I have the day off.
Pretty quickly we were shoulder-to-shoulder, nose-to-back of head, ass-to-crotch, with all the walking bags of hormones. I'm not sure if I felt more claustrophobic or old at this point. I told Carlos not to look back at the crushing ocean of youth behind us, because he'd likely shit himself with the realization that we might die tonight.
After some back and forth with the tides of the adjusting crowd, holding our heads up so we could breathe, the band came on and thankfully opened with a slower number. Short-lived calm before the storm is all it was. Next song was mosh time and I for one, left my age on the floor. I won't deny that after a few pogo jumps, I'd have to stop, catch my breath and fight back the heart attack. But, damn it, I soldiered on. And when the young hooligans showed up and were getting a little more rowdy, I was not afraid! Well, maybe a little. Who am I kidding, I was terrified, but it was kill or be killed so I had to match their level of moshitude, which was no easy feat.
The iPhone came out sporadically and I got some decent shots, but the faster songs were impossible to capture for fear of losing my precious. By the end of the show, I left whatever vestiges of my youth I had left on that floor. I knew for a fact that I'd be sore today. What I didn't expect was to be woken up at 5am by a fucking satanic Charlie horse in my right calf that had me screaming like a little girl and Lesley laughing like one.
Imagine if it had actually been a metal show! Good thing I have the day off.
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