The following story takes place in September of 2007...
I was talking to my friend Buddy Andrew a few weeks ago. He lives a very interesting life. He has had the same job at this pizza place forever. He is room mates with this rich guy, and they live in a massive house with a tennis court, and a pool that goes inside the house to a room with a shuffleboard table. However, he doesn't have access to the internet. He was a vegetarian FOREVER, but one day showed up at our friends house with a bag full of In and Out burgers and said fuck it. He has thrown up AND bled in my old truck. He had the same haircut Rod Stewart has, and I'm pretty sure he only owns 1 pair of cut off black jean shorts and 1 pair of shoes. This is Andrew. So when I was talking to him, he said he heard of my blog through people at work and wanted me to include him in a story. This is that story.
One day, Andrew calls me up and says he has an extra ticket to go see The Subhumans play at Soma in San Diego. Truthfully, Subhumans aren't really my style but I said fuck it, let's get weird, I'm in. So we cruise down to San Diego, and park, and realize we are a little early. We go over to the grocery store across the street to buy some beer while we are waiting, and somehow decide on buying a 12 pack of Mickey's Grenades. I think it was because they had the riddles under the cap, but this was 8 years ago so who knows. So we are just hanging out in his car, drinking and solving riddles like Batman, when the car starts shaking. First thought is, oh shit, policia. Turns out, it was just 3 kids who work with Andrew at the pizza place. When I say kids, I mean kids. Maybe 17 or 18. They pile into the back of his Saturn and crack open their beers that they somehow got. We drink all the beers we have between us and realize we missed the first band that played, so we decide to head in. After the kids get out and head in, Andrew 's like hey I got this pipe and some weed, want to smoke it before we go in? I'm kind of drunk at this point and am already stressing about not fitting in with the tru punks inside, and I did promise to get weird, so i say hell yeah, light that shit up! (Probably not those exact words. Ever.) I very very very rarely smoke pot, so naturally I got super duper high. Which was a terrible mistake for where I was heading.
We walk up to security, and I am already freaking out. I know they are going to catch me being high, I'm going to jail, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did I do this? That type of paranoid stuff. Looking back on it, half the people in that building were probably high, including the bouncers, and I made it in no problem. We walk into the giant stage room, and this place is fucking packed. The band Witch Hunt is playing (that band rules by the way) and we start pushing our way towards the front. I feel like a ghost, and I'm just floating through the crowd. We stop just outside of the pit and stand there and watch the band. As I'm watching, I still just feel like I'm floating, and I'm getting bumped into by the most disgusting crust punks on the face of the earth. Dreads are brushing by my face. Unwashed vests with studs are poking me in the shoulder. Or at least, that's whats going through my mind. I'm trying to watch this band I'm actually enjoying, and praying to god that I don't get ring worm. But I still don't move from this spot the entire show. The floating has stopped and I am now an anchor sinking into the sea of people bustling about me. I kind of just zone out and concentrate on being solid. Until MDC plays John Wayne was a Nazi, and I snap out of it for a moment, brought back to life by familiarity. But then I'm right back to it. I'm less of an anchor at this point and more of a sea cucumber, just kind of swaying along with the current. I do this through the rest of MDC and Subhumans set. After they play their encore songs, I look at Andrew, he looks at me, we kind of just nod at each other, and book it back to the car and go the fuck home.
The MINUTE I walk into my house, I jumped in the shower to wash the grossness off me. I'll be damned if I get tetanus or lockjaw.
Lesson learned: Don't get high and go to a punk show. Don't get high and go to a show. Don't get high.
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