I don't want to be a security guard at a Motörhead concert when I grow up.
There was only one room you could drink in. It was well lit and packed with tatoos and leather. The problem with this sort of set up is people pound them back and go back to the show no leisurely sips while enjoying the Motörheadian nuances. pound it and dig in to the mass and of course like any other high school dance we had to get ripped before we showed, it was Motörhead after all.
Since the ticket read no-re-entry there was an envitablity, smoking. People just lit up. The security guard tells them to put it out and they do, then move somewhere else and light another. So I'm standing around drinking in the drinking area, drinking waay to fast.
I look to the left and there is a criminally leathered, criminally tatooed, and most importantly criminally attitudified Metal King lounging at a table taking up as much space as possible with his Metal Queen on his lap snaping her gum, both smoking cigarettes. I know they are trying to scare me with the totally unoriginal manufactured look, and truthfully, it's working. A beefy security guard walks up, leans in and asks him to put it out. The Metal Lord slouched in his throne, looks at the cigarette, nods, taps the ash off it, looks the security guard back in the eye keeps smoking in utter disreguard of the law and this authority enforcing it. OF COURSE! This is a Motörhead show of course there will be a beligerant and generally anti-authoritarian bent to the crowd. even if just for tonight.
It was then I realize just how much I have to fear. The Law and general politeness is the only thing keeping me alive. As far as that whole survival of the fittest thing goes... anarchy would judge me not fit to live. If this went bad it could go so very very bad. Fortunately or unfortunately the only thing of value I have to lose in this situation is my life.
Fortunately I escaped with my life, unfortunately I was slopped and committed a number of gruesome Public Displays of Affection. If it was High School, it would have been my proudest moment. It, however, was not.
Today's Song of the Day is "My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama" by Frank Zappa & Mothers of Invention off his 1970 album "Weasels Ripped My Flesh."
Crazy Fact: His Record Label, Verve, insisted on adding "of Invention" to the band's name.
njoy
2 comments:
oh no. then i'm really glad i didn't see you at the show.
we had an awesome time and i was with many of those "old school" metal heads. they were really nice guys. i can't believe you stood around making out.
that's tres lame, my friend.
Okay, that's the best google ad yet:
Smoking, Cut, Frack
Ihr Herrenaustatter im internet. Markenmode versandkostenfrei.
www.herrenaustatter.de
That's a real ad. I have no idea what it means. I'll ask a.
Ah, she says Herrenausstatter is a man's dresser, markenmode is about label fashion and a Frack, my friend, is like a tux jacket with tails. That will now forever be a frack to me. I gotta get one and wear it to a motorhead concert.
Way to go with the making out, you slut. Good work not getting shot again.
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