The whole story...

So, Kourt skimmed the highlights, but I figured I'd weigh in on the whole Linkin Park concert experience. It had it's highs and lows -- actually, by the time I got home I wasn't the happiest camper on the face of the planet, but that could partly have been due to sleep deprivation. I get cranky when I'm tired.

Anyway, we had GA tickets, like Kourt said, so since I knew she and Jerry were pretty excited about the concert I suggested we leave around noonish, so as to be there and in line by about four. Actually, the last time we drove to a concert in KC, we got there in about two and a half hours, so I was counting on a long afternoon of sitting in line in the sun.

Don't worry. I remembered to get sunscreen. If I'd burned to a crisp in addition to all the rest of what happened, I'd probably have passed out in the pit during Atreyu.

I planned to catch four or five hours of sleep before leaving, and then catch a few more while Jerry drove us up, since I had to work the night before. Well, I guess adrenaline got the best of me or something, because all I caught was about an hour and a half before we left, and it proved impossible for me to sleep in the back of a VW Beetle. **insert Mall Rats joke here** But I was pretty solidly awake all day, despite all that. However, during my attempt to sleep in the car, I wasn't paying attention to where we were going. All I knew was that Jerry said he knew a way to cut some time off our drive, so I just crafted in the back seat and paid no attention.

If not paying attention to what route we were taking was mistake number one, number two was not drinking enough on the way up. I had a Guava Rock Star (best stuff on the planet, by the way), and then a strawberry shake with lunch. No water. Don't know what the hell I was thinking.

We arrived in the late afternoon -- I think maybe somewhere around 5-ish. Granted, since Kourt and I can't ever seem to get on the road in a timely manner (this time it was getting me awake, and then having to run around for things like a bag to carry our stuff in and the sunscreen and a bandanna so my head wouldn't burn), we didn't leave until 1 or maybe a little after. Still, seemed like it took longer than it should. But hey, when we got there they hadn't even opened the gates to the parking lot, and we were only two cars back, so it was all good.

And yes, we do all know the words to "As Long As You Love Me," but only when the windows are all up.

They let us line up at about 6:30, I think, so we really weren't in line that long. Good thing, too, because by then I was already getting dehydrated. Kourt had about half of a one liter bottle of diet Mountain Dew in the car, so I got that and drank it all, which helped a little, but not quite enough. First thing I did when we got through the gate was go drop six bucks on two little 20oz bottles of water, since they made me throw the empty Mountain Dew bottle away at the gate. Even with us stopping for water and a t-shirt, though, we ended up just about four people back from the rail.

Not too shabby, I say.

Now, it should be said that, since I'm not really a veteran concertgoer, I'd never been in the pit before. In fact, this made the first non-pop arena concert I'd ever been to. The Neurosonic show was GA, but that was just a club show. And even though we were GA for a Justin Timberlake concert (VIP, actually, to be accurate), it's not like JT fans get rowdy. They just deafen you with the uber-high-pitched fangirl hysteria.

So, yeah, four rows from the rail. I felt like we'd done good, and Kourt would be happy to be that close to Chester.

The first opening act was Ashes Divide. They were really good, the crowd was in a pretty laid-back mood at that point, just enjoying the show, and didn't even crush in when Chester came out to sing with them. All was good, except that I'd finished off my bottle of water and was still thirsty and, even though I'd gone to the bathroom and come back once before the show started, I hadn't even thought to refill the thing at the sink. Yeah, I can be dumb sometimes. But really, everyone was having a good time.

And then they started setting up for Atreyu.

And the hoard of Atreyu fans began to descend. In little groups, like fan-tanks, burrowing through the pit. As if a few 100-pound waify chicks in Atreyu t-shirts with their bony little elbows are going to move 250 pounds of me when I've got my feet planted. Ha.

Yes, we did make a girl cry, after she spent the better part of what felt like half an hour digging her elbow into my bicep to try and muscle in front of me. And then there was the drunk guy with his girlfriend on his shoulders, who kept breathing his beer-breath down my neck. I can muster an extreme amount of patience if it means pissing off assholes.

Oh, and then there was the guy who got through the crowd by coming up behind people and just informing them that they were to move aside. Nearly came to blows with the guy beside us.

Plus, to win the award of "Worst Suggestion Ever," the band encouraged the entire pit to form a big mosh circle. I could be totally smoking crack on this, but I thought moshing was one of those consentual things. If you want to, fine. If not, stay the hell away from those who do. I'd have been really pissed if I'd been one of the LP fans caught up in the hurricane of Atreyu fans that, indeed, managed to get the whole middle of the pit moving in a circle. Or so I assume from the way we got pulled around down front. Thankfully, we managed to hold our spots, but it wasn't easy.

And frankly, the band sucked copious amounts of ass. I just don't even get it. But I was having fun being a bitch in the pit. Turns out that despite what I've been saying for the past few months, I am not too old for the pit. I do have a bit of an uber-bitch confrontational side. It used to only come to the surface when dealing with tech support operators on the phone, but it was in full force in the pit that night, too.

Unfortunately, by the last song in Atreyu's set, Kourt had had enough and wanted out. So we bailed and sat on the grass for Linkin Park. Frankly, if I'd realized we were going to do that, I'd have suggested we leave three hours later so I could have slept.

The concert was good, though. And in retrospect, I was bordering on real dehydration by the time we left the crowd behind, so who knows if I'd have stayed conscious through LPs set anyway. Next time I'll remember to hydrate myself in the morning. But it should be noted that a) the asshole factor in the crowd seemed to drop dramatically after Atreyu left the stage and b) at one point Chester came down off stage, right where we'd been standing.

Anyway, yeah, concert was good, Chester's voice held up well live, and we had a pretty good view even from the lawn. And then we headed back. I got us back on 71, and told Jerry to just let me know where the turn-off for his little shortcut was. Kourt sacked out in the back seat (she hadn't really slept at all the night before). Somewhere around Rich Hill, I think, we suddenly spotted something strange in the road in front of us. I swerved as far as I could to the left without rolling us into the ditch, but still clipped the HUGE PIECE OF LUMBER with the front passenger tire. HUGE hole. Had to stop and change the tire, and all I can say is thank god for a full-size spare.

We got back on the road without too much hassle, though. I was freakin' exhausted. I figured since we left KC at a bit before midnight, we'd be home by three or three thirty, even with the tire malfunction. Except we weren't. And it didn't occur to me until after we went through the "shortcut" that we'd gone all the way down almost to Carthage!!! No wonder it took more gas than we'd budgeted for. My plan had been to go up 13 to 7 to 71. You know, because the quickest route is usually the one that's the closest to a straight line. I REALLY wish I'd paid more attention on the ride up.

Sigh.

So much for getting to bed way early (well, early for us third shift workers) the night after the concert to make up for the sleep we didn't get the night before. I think we rolled into the Kum and Go at around 4:30. And so much for having t-shirt money for NIN this week, because I'll have to scrounge more money to cover the gas to St. Louis and back since Kourt's pretty much out of cash now. Well, maybe I'll still be able to do it, since my parents generously stepped in and got a new tire for Kourt's car -- hers gets better gas mileage so we don't have to take mine, and now we don't have to worry about scraping up the cash for a new tire ourselves. And I still have one more plasma donation I can squeeze in before Wednesday. Still, I think we'll have to pack bologna sandwiches or something to eat on the way instead of stopping for fast food, and just hope for no major catastrophies.

For a little while I was a little disappointed that we have seats for NIN instead of being on the floor, 'cause now that I've survived the Atreyu pit, I'm DYING to be down on the floor for Trent. But hey, he just announced yesterday that they're adding another leg to the tour and are swinging through Columbia in November. And if the crowd doesn't look to be full of assholes on Wednesday night Kourt might be game to hit the floor with me then. If not, it's cool. But I'm kinda hooked on the rush. By my reasoning, Nine Inch Nails fans should be a bit, you know, more mature about the whole thing. Smaller percentage of those "hey, I'm cool because I'm into the same flavor-of-the-moment band that all my friends like, and even though I'm really too much of a wimpy girl to survive by myself in the pit, and didn't get there early enough to be down front because I took too long to do my hair and pick out some really awesomely dangerous hoop earrings to wear, I'm okay because I've got my drunken frat-ape of a boyfriend to protect me and back me up while I piss off everybody else" girls.

Or at least that's my hypothesis.

And shouldn't crowd surfing have died off in, oh, 1999 or so? Seriously. Taking a crowd surfer limb to the head isn't my idea of fun, and I don't know about everyone else, but lifting people over my head all night does not add to my enjoyment of the show. Might be fun for the surfer, but everyone underneath just gets pissed off.