prattle!
Clicky clicky...
We started the three hour drive at five pm. We arrived in Minneapolis, and went to Noodles and Co. They have the best mac and cheese. Ever. Anyway, went to Max's place, got everything set up, and went out on the town for an hour or so. We returned, got four hours of sleep, and headed for the Quest club. We claimed our concrete square at 8:15 am. We were among 7 other crazies. We befriended those close to us, and spent the next 9 hours snuggled with near strangers. We laughed at the hotel stalkers, and washed coffee stains out of t-shirts in bus station bathrooms. Every so often, I would think about Kristin and Chloe, the two girls I met in San An last year. (miss you babes) It was about 34 degrees all day. It was never warm enough to not see your breath. I didn't camp out to get front row. I camped out to get the balcony spot next to my friend Beth, who would be set aside due to her wheelchair. After a nine hour wait, we were informed that the balcony was 21 +... which I knew right away was probably bullshit, but I weighed the matter and decided since I was so close to the front, I'd give it a go. They numbered us off, taking the first eighty and letting them in first as best as they could. (Of course, after I'm stitched into a human corsette, they announce the balcony is 18 + )
I. Fucking. Hate. Hanson. Fans.
The animosity that undercurrents the concerts I go to makes me sad. Nearly to the point of tears, because so much of it gets ruined. I don't *want* to have to fight to stand 20 feet from them. I was center stage, two people back. At first the crowd was reasonable, and we could move and dance. The two openers were great from what I could hear.... and then the crushing started. I would have been fine, had I not gotten turned sideways. All of a sudden... I couldn't breath. Couldn't get air... couldn't move... I wanted out. I turned back to Angel... I wanted to say "Let's go"...
She tells me I turned back, closed my eyes, and dropped.
Passed the fuck out. G'nite. I woke up backstage in a full blown panic attack. One of the worst I've had. My fingers locked down into claws. My legs pulled up to my belly and I was shaking.... I hadn't had an episode in nearly 6 months... It terrified me, and I lost my ability to fight it. It beat me. Then the swelling depression that I had failed. I had lost control of my body, lost my spot in the concert. Failed.
Pulled belly up from the crowd *right the fuck in front of Taylor Hanson*
The paramedic, Andy, soothed me. He counted down my breathing, asking me simple questions.
Whats your name? How old are you? Breathe, relax. You're alright. So, you've liked them for a long time, huh?
He smiled at me, took my heart rate, and let me cry.
Then Angel came running back, persued by Kari. I was still unwinding, but now able to speak. Fifteen mintues had passed. The production manager, James, had been talking to me on and off all day while we waited outside... and he came to see if I was alright. He spoke quietly, shook his head, and told me he'd be right back.
He returned with a chocolate chip cookie, and offered it to me laughing.
"If I tell you where that came from, you're gonna go crazy."
I shook my head, and nibbled it.
"That came from... someone's... dressing room."
I got a Hanson cookie.
Temporarily.
I wanted to get back out there... dizzy and wobbly, I was helped to my feet, and fainted.
Damnit. It was brief, hardly a blackout, but there I was on my back again. Now I'm getting more frusterated and upset with myself. Then, my stomach turned. Yup.
Tossed my cookie.
My Hanson cookie. Right into a plastic barf bag, which was being held by my best friend (I love you) because my hands were still too numb to grip it.
DAMNIT! Andy the paramedic and James the guardian tell me I can't go back out there if I faint again. Then I hear the first two chords of Every Word I Say. Hell or High water, I'm out there.
Eventually, I end up where I wanted to be in the first place. In the balcony with Beth, Angel, Kari, and Krista. Safe. ... And ten feet above him. Again.
*sigh*
Taylor was terribly, terribly disconnected from the show. All three of them were off, in the way they walked, played, and performed. I noticed it from the second they walked on stage. I was right... They've suffered a loss. I'm sorry boys...
For once I can truely say I know how you feel. You made your grandmother very, very proud, if she sees you in half of the light we do.
... I've found myself growing from them recently. I think they're just like me at the moment.
Burning out.
But setting everything they touch ablaze while they can.
Concert review turned emo-fest. Terribly sorry. If you're still reading at this point, either you really love me, or you are really really bored.
They played what I wanted to hear. I met amazing people. I puked for the first time in five years.
You hear that Hanson? I PUKED FOR YOU.
Tah hah. That's horrible.
Hmm. I could go on to tell you exactly what Taylor was wearing. How many bracelets he had on, the color of his socks, ect. All I know is that every time I see him, he seems progressivly more depressed. And that after eight years, I'll still babble on about my character study of him for HOURS given the chance.
It was a long car ride home. A short nap, and a VERY long day at work. I'm tired.
Come sleep with me... ;0)
We started the three hour drive at five pm. We arrived in Minneapolis, and went to Noodles and Co. They have the best mac and cheese. Ever. Anyway, went to Max's place, got everything set up, and went out on the town for an hour or so. We returned, got four hours of sleep, and headed for the Quest club. We claimed our concrete square at 8:15 am. We were among 7 other crazies. We befriended those close to us, and spent the next 9 hours snuggled with near strangers. We laughed at the hotel stalkers, and washed coffee stains out of t-shirts in bus station bathrooms. Every so often, I would think about Kristin and Chloe, the two girls I met in San An last year. (miss you babes) It was about 34 degrees all day. It was never warm enough to not see your breath. I didn't camp out to get front row. I camped out to get the balcony spot next to my friend Beth, who would be set aside due to her wheelchair. After a nine hour wait, we were informed that the balcony was 21 +... which I knew right away was probably bullshit, but I weighed the matter and decided since I was so close to the front, I'd give it a go. They numbered us off, taking the first eighty and letting them in first as best as they could. (Of course, after I'm stitched into a human corsette, they announce the balcony is 18 + )
I. Fucking. Hate. Hanson. Fans.
The animosity that undercurrents the concerts I go to makes me sad. Nearly to the point of tears, because so much of it gets ruined. I don't *want* to have to fight to stand 20 feet from them. I was center stage, two people back. At first the crowd was reasonable, and we could move and dance. The two openers were great from what I could hear.... and then the crushing started. I would have been fine, had I not gotten turned sideways. All of a sudden... I couldn't breath. Couldn't get air... couldn't move... I wanted out. I turned back to Angel... I wanted to say "Let's go"...
She tells me I turned back, closed my eyes, and dropped.
Passed the fuck out. G'nite. I woke up backstage in a full blown panic attack. One of the worst I've had. My fingers locked down into claws. My legs pulled up to my belly and I was shaking.... I hadn't had an episode in nearly 6 months... It terrified me, and I lost my ability to fight it. It beat me. Then the swelling depression that I had failed. I had lost control of my body, lost my spot in the concert. Failed.
Pulled belly up from the crowd *right the fuck in front of Taylor Hanson*
The paramedic, Andy, soothed me. He counted down my breathing, asking me simple questions.
Whats your name? How old are you? Breathe, relax. You're alright. So, you've liked them for a long time, huh?
He smiled at me, took my heart rate, and let me cry.
Then Angel came running back, persued by Kari. I was still unwinding, but now able to speak. Fifteen mintues had passed. The production manager, James, had been talking to me on and off all day while we waited outside... and he came to see if I was alright. He spoke quietly, shook his head, and told me he'd be right back.
He returned with a chocolate chip cookie, and offered it to me laughing.
"If I tell you where that came from, you're gonna go crazy."
I shook my head, and nibbled it.
"That came from... someone's... dressing room."
I got a Hanson cookie.
Temporarily.
I wanted to get back out there... dizzy and wobbly, I was helped to my feet, and fainted.
Damnit. It was brief, hardly a blackout, but there I was on my back again. Now I'm getting more frusterated and upset with myself. Then, my stomach turned. Yup.
Tossed my cookie.
My Hanson cookie. Right into a plastic barf bag, which was being held by my best friend (I love you) because my hands were still too numb to grip it.
DAMNIT! Andy the paramedic and James the guardian tell me I can't go back out there if I faint again. Then I hear the first two chords of Every Word I Say. Hell or High water, I'm out there.
Eventually, I end up where I wanted to be in the first place. In the balcony with Beth, Angel, Kari, and Krista. Safe. ... And ten feet above him. Again.
*sigh*
Taylor was terribly, terribly disconnected from the show. All three of them were off, in the way they walked, played, and performed. I noticed it from the second they walked on stage. I was right... They've suffered a loss. I'm sorry boys...
For once I can truely say I know how you feel. You made your grandmother very, very proud, if she sees you in half of the light we do.
... I've found myself growing from them recently. I think they're just like me at the moment.
Burning out.
But setting everything they touch ablaze while they can.
Concert review turned emo-fest. Terribly sorry. If you're still reading at this point, either you really love me, or you are really really bored.
They played what I wanted to hear. I met amazing people. I puked for the first time in five years.
You hear that Hanson? I PUKED FOR YOU.
Tah hah. That's horrible.
Hmm. I could go on to tell you exactly what Taylor was wearing. How many bracelets he had on, the color of his socks, ect. All I know is that every time I see him, he seems progressivly more depressed. And that after eight years, I'll still babble on about my character study of him for HOURS given the chance.
It was a long car ride home. A short nap, and a VERY long day at work. I'm tired.
Come sleep with me... ;0)