So it was last summer, right, and my sister and I had suddenly become crazy obsessed with the band Hollywood Undead. Still are. Always will be.
Our sort of hometown, but not really hometown, was hosting a Rock Fest, which is basically a huge ass concert in which like six different rock bands join together and give us the time of our lives. Now, living in rural South Dakota, you wouldn't expect such large bands--or such large crowds for that matter--to come and entertain us all, but lo and behold, here come the holy ones!
Core, Eve to Adam, Candlelight Red, Trapt, and finally, the band that was sent down purely from the Gods above, Hollywood Undead. They came trooping in, their numerous trucks and jeeps gleaming in the hot July sun, and they took over my life.
The bands performed in the order of which I listed them above, meaning Core, which featured a male with atrociously long black hair as the lead singer, warmed us all up in a way the beating sphere of fire in the sky could not. Receiving an autograph from up close and personal, I took a small portion of that band home with me.
Eve to Adam blared on next, riling me up beyond my words. Take an oddly hot, shirtless, gleaming with sweat singer, throw in a few hot Chinese guitarists, and you have the band that took up most of the memory space on my digital camera.
Candlelight Red then took the spotlight, and truthfully, the dulled the light so far down, I couldn't see my own hands. I was bored halfway into the second song, so bored in fact, that I just so happened to become dehydrated with the 90-100 degree weather, and bordered on fainting. It was like the darkness had taken over me; I saw black all around, it was like I was bathed in a downpour of liquid ice, and I felt like I was going to hurl up the single bottle of water I had nourished my body with that day. My sister, however, saved me from my peril by dumping an entire bottle of water down my throat and forcing me to lean over the guard rail while the uber buff security guards asked numerous times if I was OK.
Surviving the icy hand of unconsciousness and a nearly lost to-die-for spot, I managed to stand up tall and prepare myself for Trapt to sweep me off my feet.
And sweep they did. My feet were figuratively sticking up in the air like the Wicked Witch's sister when the house fell on top of her. As the sun went down, the energy levels soared up. Dancing, groping, and shrieking the words of the songs ensued. That was also when my friend that had come along with my sister and I did faint. Whether it was from dehydration or heat stroke, we may never know, but within seconds of the fourth song, she was draped over the guard rail, shaking like an epileptic. She was in fact carried out of her perfect, front row standing spot by a guard with muscles the size of Texas itself. Being the frail creature she was, it was no trouble for her to be tossed over the gate where she was lead to our other friends to get food and water.
My sister and I stayed in our spot, not daring to lose the precious vantage point at which we were.
And finally, whence the sun was long gone, the moon was high in the sky, and the weather was still blazing like the fiery inferno it was, the set was switched and out came Holly-freaking-wood Un-freaking-dead.
The bad ass MCs ran onto the stage and introduced themselves, telling up how much they came to like the vast expanse of shit that was our state. Although I doubted their words, I accepted that as they opened up with Undead, the first song of theirs I ever heard.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Fifth grade, the land of closing schools and leaving friends, was when my sister miraculously found the glorious band and illegally...I mean completely legally, downloaded the fateful song onto my old fashioned MP3 player. If I had known it would cause me to spiral into a deep pit like this, I would probably have smiled and just let it happen. It has been by far the most fun downfall I have had.
Everyone was reeling from the entrance these men had made, as was I, and my friend who had fainted had somehow fought her skinny way back up to my sister and I, along with the other friends--a couple who have been together a year now, and another girl that we all secretly hate but aren't brave enough to tell it to her face--just in time for this show to start.
Their set list was by far the longest of the night, premiering some of their newer ones that had not yet come out, such as Bullet and Mother Murder.
In the middle of the song City, just as Charlie Scene was in fact saying "This city looks so pretty, do you want to burn it with me," the speaker directly in front of the gorgeous bastard went up in flames. I found the irony especially comical.
One of the attractive Chinese guitarists from the earlier band was standing literally a half a foot away from me, causally resting against the guard rail while I casually had a panic attack.
And thus, like all good things come to a tragic end, the bid us a quick adieu and exited the stage. We were all very upset, and like the complaining babies we were, we all started singing their songs to get them to come back out, and lo and behold, like a star shining through the dark night, a single, echoing call sounded.
"Everywhere I go!"
As you can imagine, the crowd went absolutely bonkers, responding the the call and return with the acclaimed, "Bitches always know!" and we were then faced with the return of the reason of my existence
As the boys flooded back onto the stage, the night started right back up, almost as if we were living it once again, and sometimes, I wish I could.
They exited for real, finally, with what song I do not know, and on the way off of the stage, Charlie Scene himself removed his sweaty shirt, handing it to, no not me, but the girl who had rudely shoved herself up in between the celebrity and I. The greedy little rat took possession of the one thing that I aspired to own in my entire life. Deserting us at last, they disappeared and the massive crowd piled out of the gates.
On our way out, like the way in, we met up with our cousin whom is a year older than I. He was the one who first informed us of this spectacular concert and bought us the tickets, thus making me forever in his debt.
As my parents picked the three of us, that being my sister, her skinny friend, and I, up in our large, blue, Ford truck, we told them of our tales.
I went home and I slept that night with a stomach full of only water, dreaming of the possibilities I could have had if only that wretched female hadn't cruelly cut me off on my pursuit to the shirt of my wildest dreams. Life could have been perfection, but I suppose it already is.
