In the span of two months, I get to see five bands that rank on my Top 10 Faves list. It finally started to sink in today and even though I have a ceiling that leaks every time someone showers, a molar in dire need of a crown that I can’t quite afford just now, a job that your average monkey could perform (and probably better too), and a gay ass boyfriend who refuses to wash my coffee mugs on the rare (like, Haley’s Comet-rare) occasion that he actually dips his fat hands into the sink yet expects me to scrub his skillets sullied with meat residue ensnared inside a witch’s brew of thick and coagulated grease, I can’t help but be in a really great mood.
Granted, three of these shows will find me with Henry as my chaperone. ("Hurr hurr, that girl came with her dad!" is what I imagine all the cool kids say when I shamefully slink inside the venue with Henry trailing ten paces behind me.) My favorite "Old Dude at the Show" moment was in 2002 when Henry and I went to Buffalo, NY for Edgefest. He was a newbie to these radio festivals, and probably hadn’t been to a concert since the 1980s when he pushed some broad over a railing at the Judas Priest show because he couldn’t see over her. In my mind, when I think of Henry in the glory years of youth, he’s always wearing a bitchin’ Foot Locker t-shirt and pushing up his over-sized tinted eyeglasses with one stubby finger, his newly mustachioed lips curling into a predatory leer as he ogles a bunch of big-breasted bimbos in shredded stone-washed jeans and mile-high curled bangs, hot pink Wet n Wild polish chipping from their fingernails. (I always try to trick him into telling me that story so I can get better details, but then he realizes that my intention is to ridicule him, so he catches himself.) Sugarcult was playing on one of the smaller stages, and I grabbed Henry’s hand, leading him close to the front, but not so far up that we were crushed against the security gate. I didn’t think he’d be able to handle being that close. Sugarcult starts playing, kids go crazy. Everyone’s having a good time and Henry actually looks like he could possibly be enjoying himself. Suddenly, a young boy, maybe around fifteen, slams into Henry’s side. Henry thinks this is some sort of personal attack on him, that maybe next this kid is going to seek out Henry’s car and pour sugar in the gas tank. So he reacts by violently shoving the kid back into the crowd. I gave him a scolding look and hissed, "Dude, that kid is like, 4 compared to your 67. You trying to go to jail?"
"It was a reflex! That kid shoved me!" Henry whined. I started wondering what kind of pussy tattle-taler he must have been in school.
Ever since then, and one other occasion when Henry shouldered some teenager for standing too close to him in line before a Mindless Self Indulgence show, Henry has been pretty well-behaved, We just don’t stand so close to the stage anymore.
2008 is really shaping up to be The Really Rad Year that I’ve been patiently waiting for. And by patiently, I mean kicking holes in walls and threatening to kill myself and/or others but mainly just Henry every other day for the past four years.
(OK, so I guess the year of Chooch’s birth was a Pretty Good Year. What was that, 2006? Who can keep track anymore?)