Coco, Lou and I, we left at noon.
We stocked up on all the crucial food groups, saltly, caffienated, deep-fried, sugary, artery-clogging, cancer-causing and of course, Jamba Juice.
What?
We like Jamba Juice, ok?
"WOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO!!!! We're off!!!!!"
"Yay!!!!!!!!"
"Er ........................."
"Yes?"
"Girls, where are we going?"
"Switchfoot!!!!!!!"
"Yay! But I meant, um, WHERE exactly is the concert?"
"Downtown?"
"La Jolla?"
"So, we don't know, is what you're saying?"
"Wait, does it say on the tickets? *checks* Well it says it's on Fifth Ave."
"We'll just drive from one end of Fifth Ave to the other. It'll be an adventure!"
"OK!!!!!"
Once we found it, we began the Great Parking Spot Hunt.
"That looks like a spot!"
*reads*
"No Parking Any Time
8AM - 6PM
Third to Eight Weds."
"But the little sign next to it says -
*reads*
Construction Zone - 10/30 - 11/11
And the curb isn't painted."
"But the little sign over the meter says "Two Hour Parking, Anytime."
"Lets just roll the car into the bay. I'll report it stolen after the concert and buy another one."
Eventually we got lucky and found a lot in a safe part of town, only a few blocks up. On the way to the concert venue, we passed a homeless man sleeping (we thought) on the sidewalk. I'm ashamed to say I joked about it and suggest we lay down a few feet away and see how he reacted when he woke up. When we made a trip back the car ten minutes later, he was surrounded by ambulances, cops and firetrucks. They had him on a respirator and we loading him into the ambulance. Needless to say, I felt like the worst kind of human EVER. We'd walked not more than two feet away and not realized he needed help.
We spent the rest of the afternoon waiting in line outside the concert. We sat along the wall of a 7-11, which was GREAT because of my love affair with their coffee bar thingy. We read magazines and doodled on each other and made friends with a girl who turned out to have a pathological hatred for people with any kind of a VIP pass, and another girl who went off about how Jessica Simpson was the most talented artist out there. *eyeroll*
There was a guy playing Switchfoot songs on his guitar and singing.
He did not -
a). know any 50 Cent songs, nor did he
b). appreciate my asking if he knew any 50 Cent songs.
We finally got in at 6:30, and charged downstairs and into the mosh pit.
Rules for Getting to the Front of a Concert
Act quickly when you get in. Give yourself as much a headstart as possible.
Make friends with a couple of tall guys near you. Make a pact to help each other.
Have the guys be the 'bad guys' and start pushing you forward. You can blame it on them, and they are insolated by your bodies.
When that fails, work diagonaly. If the people in front are aggressively defending their space, you need to make this look natural. Say this is you -. Say this is the person in front of you *.
*
-
Now, swing your hip around, as if you're being jostled.
*/
Then shift as if that foot is tired.
*
Then pretend to get jostled again.
_
*
Presto, you're in front.
If you hit a true standstill, there are a few ways to prey on people in mosh pits natural propensity for hysteria. If it's still an opening act, simply point to the dark wings and scream as if the shadowy figure of a stagehand is the big star. This will prompt everyone to look and scream. Use the distraction to your advantage.
Or, you can begin dancing more enthusicastically. Those around you, we can assume they're huge fans of the band or they wouldn't be there, will be very easily caught up. If your movement is more purposeful, you have an advantage.
And when the star comes out, or simply moves closer to the audience and everyone crushes forward and tries to touch them, move diagonally toward the front but away from the side everyone is heading. The star will move, he'll come to your side eventually. It's a great way to get past those couple diehards right up at the rail, that won't relinguish their spot easily.
There you go, some tried and tested methods. Ask my happy customers, Coco and Lou, who were totally acknowledged but the singer and the bass player. Oh yeah. We ARE that loud.
We stocked up on all the crucial food groups, saltly, caffienated, deep-fried, sugary, artery-clogging, cancer-causing and of course, Jamba Juice.
What?
We like Jamba Juice, ok?
"WOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO!!!! We're off!!!!!"
"Yay!!!!!!!!"
"Er ........................."
"Yes?"
"Girls, where are we going?"
"Switchfoot!!!!!!!"
"Yay! But I meant, um, WHERE exactly is the concert?"
"Downtown?"
"La Jolla?"
"So, we don't know, is what you're saying?"
"Wait, does it say on the tickets? *checks* Well it says it's on Fifth Ave."
"We'll just drive from one end of Fifth Ave to the other. It'll be an adventure!"
"OK!!!!!"
Once we found it, we began the Great Parking Spot Hunt.
"That looks like a spot!"
*reads*
"No Parking Any Time
8AM - 6PM
Third to Eight Weds."
"But the little sign next to it says -
*reads*
Construction Zone - 10/30 - 11/11
And the curb isn't painted."
"But the little sign over the meter says "Two Hour Parking, Anytime."
"Lets just roll the car into the bay. I'll report it stolen after the concert and buy another one."
Eventually we got lucky and found a lot in a safe part of town, only a few blocks up. On the way to the concert venue, we passed a homeless man sleeping (we thought) on the sidewalk. I'm ashamed to say I joked about it and suggest we lay down a few feet away and see how he reacted when he woke up. When we made a trip back the car ten minutes later, he was surrounded by ambulances, cops and firetrucks. They had him on a respirator and we loading him into the ambulance. Needless to say, I felt like the worst kind of human EVER. We'd walked not more than two feet away and not realized he needed help.
We spent the rest of the afternoon waiting in line outside the concert. We sat along the wall of a 7-11, which was GREAT because of my love affair with their coffee bar thingy. We read magazines and doodled on each other and made friends with a girl who turned out to have a pathological hatred for people with any kind of a VIP pass, and another girl who went off about how Jessica Simpson was the most talented artist out there. *eyeroll*
There was a guy playing Switchfoot songs on his guitar and singing.
He did not -
a). know any 50 Cent songs, nor did he
b). appreciate my asking if he knew any 50 Cent songs.
We finally got in at 6:30, and charged downstairs and into the mosh pit.
Rules for Getting to the Front of a Concert
Act quickly when you get in. Give yourself as much a headstart as possible.
Make friends with a couple of tall guys near you. Make a pact to help each other.
Have the guys be the 'bad guys' and start pushing you forward. You can blame it on them, and they are insolated by your bodies.
When that fails, work diagonaly. If the people in front are aggressively defending their space, you need to make this look natural. Say this is you -. Say this is the person in front of you *.
*
-
Now, swing your hip around, as if you're being jostled.
*/
Then shift as if that foot is tired.
*
Then pretend to get jostled again.
_
*
Presto, you're in front.
If you hit a true standstill, there are a few ways to prey on people in mosh pits natural propensity for hysteria. If it's still an opening act, simply point to the dark wings and scream as if the shadowy figure of a stagehand is the big star. This will prompt everyone to look and scream. Use the distraction to your advantage.
Or, you can begin dancing more enthusicastically. Those around you, we can assume they're huge fans of the band or they wouldn't be there, will be very easily caught up. If your movement is more purposeful, you have an advantage.
And when the star comes out, or simply moves closer to the audience and everyone crushes forward and tries to touch them, move diagonally toward the front but away from the side everyone is heading. The star will move, he'll come to your side eventually. It's a great way to get past those couple diehards right up at the rail, that won't relinguish their spot easily.
There you go, some tried and tested methods. Ask my happy customers, Coco and Lou, who were totally acknowledged but the singer and the bass player. Oh yeah. We ARE that loud.
1 Comments:
Quick like a bunny...hum a few bars of your favorite "fiddy song.."
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