"Kaboom!" Or "Rhode Island Teen Attempts to Detonate Handicapped Concert-Goers"
So I'm here at Penetrode listening to "Little T&A" by the Rolling Stones. It's one of their better songs that never gets played on the radio. You can probably guess why.
I'm trying to decide what to tell y'all about today. It was going to be the fine art of writing release notes, but somehow I think I'm the only one interested in that sort of thing.
Instead, I'm going to tell you about the first rock concert I ever attended. The year was 1990. Billy Joel fever was sweeping the nation, along with his Storm Front tour. Yeah!
Unfortunately, at the time Sonny Crockett, my brother and comrade in arms, had just gotten out of the hospital. He was injured while saving a minivan full of Playboy Playmates from a gang of neo-nazi biker pit bulls. At least that's what he tells people. Although he could walk, his doctor advised that he sit in a wheelchair for the concert.
The Providence Civic Center was pretty good about relocating our tickets to the, um, handicapped section. I'll tell you, that was a scary place. I mean, my brother was sitting a little funny, but otherwise looked fine. Some of the other people in this section had entire life support systems strapped under their wheelchairs and looked like they wouldn't make it past "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant". I began to imagine the conversations that led to their concert attendance "Dammit, Doctor! My cancer may be terminal, but I need to see Billy before I go!"
Anyway, we were watching the concert and things were going well. At one point during "Only the Good Die Young" I started to stand, but then I realized that I was pretty much the only one in my section who could, so I sat back down. I would hate for people to be thinking "Oh, yeah, look at him. Thinks he's so cool, all standing and shit..."
The concert continued, and Billy launched into "Goodnight Saigon," his ode to the soldiers who fought in Vietnam. "Well," I thought, "Maybe I can't stand, but I can at least wave my lighter in the air." I don't smoke. Never have. (Except for a cigar or two a year) But I always bring a lighter to concerts. I just like the idea of waving an open flame around in public. I'd bring a propane torch if they'd let me.
So I fire up my lighter and start waving it around with tremendous gusto. And all hell breaks loose. Turns out that a lot of the people in this section have their own oxygen tanks. For those of you who slept through science class, exploding oxygen tanks are what blew up that Valuejet plane in Florida years ago.
So we've got a bunch of handicapped people fleeing the arena as fast as their batteries will carry them. We were the only ones left in our section.
I didn't really understand what had happened until security confiscated my lighter. At least we got to see the rest of concert.
Coming soon - Lance and Sonny go to a David Bowie concert and ask the crucial questions - "What is that stuff they're smoking? And why does it smell so weird?"
LM
I'm trying to decide what to tell y'all about today. It was going to be the fine art of writing release notes, but somehow I think I'm the only one interested in that sort of thing.
Instead, I'm going to tell you about the first rock concert I ever attended. The year was 1990. Billy Joel fever was sweeping the nation, along with his Storm Front tour. Yeah!
Unfortunately, at the time Sonny Crockett, my brother and comrade in arms, had just gotten out of the hospital. He was injured while saving a minivan full of Playboy Playmates from a gang of neo-nazi biker pit bulls. At least that's what he tells people. Although he could walk, his doctor advised that he sit in a wheelchair for the concert.
The Providence Civic Center was pretty good about relocating our tickets to the, um, handicapped section. I'll tell you, that was a scary place. I mean, my brother was sitting a little funny, but otherwise looked fine. Some of the other people in this section had entire life support systems strapped under their wheelchairs and looked like they wouldn't make it past "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant". I began to imagine the conversations that led to their concert attendance "Dammit, Doctor! My cancer may be terminal, but I need to see Billy before I go!"
Anyway, we were watching the concert and things were going well. At one point during "Only the Good Die Young" I started to stand, but then I realized that I was pretty much the only one in my section who could, so I sat back down. I would hate for people to be thinking "Oh, yeah, look at him. Thinks he's so cool, all standing and shit..."
The concert continued, and Billy launched into "Goodnight Saigon," his ode to the soldiers who fought in Vietnam. "Well," I thought, "Maybe I can't stand, but I can at least wave my lighter in the air." I don't smoke. Never have. (Except for a cigar or two a year) But I always bring a lighter to concerts. I just like the idea of waving an open flame around in public. I'd bring a propane torch if they'd let me.
So I fire up my lighter and start waving it around with tremendous gusto. And all hell breaks loose. Turns out that a lot of the people in this section have their own oxygen tanks. For those of you who slept through science class, exploding oxygen tanks are what blew up that Valuejet plane in Florida years ago.
So we've got a bunch of handicapped people fleeing the arena as fast as their batteries will carry them. We were the only ones left in our section.
I didn't really understand what had happened until security confiscated my lighter. At least we got to see the rest of concert.
Coming soon - Lance and Sonny go to a David Bowie concert and ask the crucial questions - "What is that stuff they're smoking? And why does it smell so weird?"
LM
posted by Lance Manion at 11:35 AM
4 Comments:
"I'm trying to decide what to tell y'all about today. It was going to be the fine art of writing release notes, but somehow I think I'm the only one interested in that sort of thing."
Lance, I at least, could've appreciated that post. Having written a fair number of release notes, or as I like to call them "Bird Cage Liner From Corporate" (which seems to be what happens to my carefully crafted words).
Keep up the good work though, when do we get treated to the next Dougie installment?
My first concert (without my parents being there) was Tori Amos in 96. I went with my sister (five years older then me) and her boyfriend (six years older then me). She got mad because I, as a 12 year old, got hit on by more lesbains then she did.
You should post more stories about Sonny Crockett. And Dougie.
Even if I hadn't been sipping pinot grigio, I still woulda laughed out loud at the thought of a dying person having to see Billy before his expiration date.
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