My First Time

The first rock concert I ever went to was a Megadeth concert. It was for the “Rust in Peace” album released in 1990. I was 15 years old. I had been introduced to Megadeth by my good friend Jesse who was the first person I was ever in a band with. We got our tickets and got dropped off at The Central Park Ballroom, now The Eagles Ballroom, in Milwaukee and we went inside. We were directed follow some other people up stairs in a somewhat harsh tone by a guy who looked almost exactly like the type of person my parents swore would kill me the second they could. With relief we headed away from that guy toward a staircase which would lead us to this life altering event. At the top of the stairs we rounded a corner and came into a room like I had never seen before.

A Gigantic oval room with a blue sky painted on the ceiling. There were pillars like you’d expect in an Opera house, a balcony with fancy moldings and railings and in front of me a virtual sea of people, all of whom looked like the guy that growled at us to go up stairs. Everywhere I looked I saw black clothes, leather, ripped jeans tee shirts, chains, long hair, tattoos, girls wearing (sort of) scraps of fabric in what seemed like an futile attempt at decency. I heard words and phrases, I smelled alcohol and tobacco and some other scent that was kind of like a burning pine tree. Infused with all this sensory input and constant noise of stage setting and sound checking, was the sound of a living body of people all talking, laughing, swearing, coughing, and commingling at once. All of this blended together to fill the air with a buzz I felt deep in my core. It was then that I discovered the grin on my face and I looked at Jesse and he nodded his head toward the crowd and we walked in allowing ourselves to be swallowed whole in an ocean of human.

Human contact is an interesting thing. Polite society demands we give each other space, try not to touch people without permission and apologize for accidental breeches in this conduct. I realized within seconds that if I hoped to get anywhere in this event, the manners that were programmed into me needed serious reconsideration. Luckily I had been gifted with a sense of observation and some common sense and I soon developed what appeared to be a tolerable presence in this new society in which I found myself. We made our way to a spot on the floor where we sort of just stopped and stood while we waited for something to happen.

Something happened.

The lights went down and everyone as a whole, started to yell and whistle and turn toward the stage. Green lights illuminated the stage and the opening band started to play. The band name is Testament and it is not a catholic High School Garage Band. I feel a rumbling in my chest and the world is crashing in on my brain. I have utterly no idea what to do with the sound my ears are trying to process. It doesn’t hurt really but it is unintelligible. The people around me, however, do know what to do. They jump up and down, they shake their heads and fists, they appear to fighting with one another, and some seem to be skipping in a circle at a lunatic pace. I stood and looked around me at the reaction to the music and knew at that moment. I was among friends. I was with people who felt the way I did when I heard this music. I was with people who didn’t care if I was overweight or didn’t wear the cloths the kids at school thought were cool, or acted in a certain way. I was just another guy who liked heavy metal.

After a while I realized I actually new what I was hearing. It was a song off the only album I’d heard from them. My ears had apparently given up and gotten used to the sound. A big guy come barreling out of the crowd and said “what are you waiting for man, MOSH! .He proceeded to grab about 3 of us standing there and pull us into this human mixing bowl I had been watching out of the corner of my eye while taking everything in. I was thrust into a gyratory group of people and pushing each other. I was push sideways and then shoved in the back into someone who pushed me backward onto someone who grabbed my arm and spun me around into a wall of people surrounding this little psychotic square dance who in turn shoved me back in. I saw a guy coming toward me and this time I grabbed his arm a pulled him around sending him spiraling off into the crowd and turned in time to catch a guy wheeling back at me. I pushed him at a guy to my left. After what seemed like half an hour of hand to hand combat the circle just sort of dissolved and I was left standing there wild eyed with fists clenched and at shoulder height. Jesse appeared to my left and said something like “Didn’t take you long to get in a pit did it?” I had evidently been initiated with my first Mosh Pit.

Testament played a couple of more tunes and finished their set. The lights came up and people headed for the bar. I stood there, soaked through with sweat and what I hope was beer that had been thrown on the audience from the balcony. My ears were ringing and my head pounded but I felt amazing. I felt powerful to the point of jittery at what I had just experienced. Jesse and I talked about the band that just played and moshing and what some of the girls were wearing, again, sort of.

And the lights went down a second time. This time the audience roared with the ferocity of a rabid grizzly bear. An air raid siren began to wail and the sound of a mans voice over a bull horn demanded; “Go in side!”,” The neighborhood curfew is in effect!”, “Any person discovered in unauthorized areas will be shot!”, “Complete compliance is mandatory”, “Any person violating the stated conduct code will be shot!”. The whistle of a bomb falling grows louder and Megadeth explodes on stage. A similar effect occurred with the crowd. Almost at the same moment the audience erupts into one giant supernova moshpit. Lights were flashing like a lightning storm had formed in the blue sky painted on the ceiling of the Ballroom; the band was blasting away at around 220 BPM on a stage set with ominous looking government crates, a drum set whose double bass drum heads were nuclear warning signs and a giant backdrop of Vic Rattlehead, the bands tormented skeletal mascot festooned with caps welded over his ears, a steel mask riveted over his eyes and his jaws clamped shut. People were not only moshing but actually riding on top of the crowd like they’re white water rafting without a boat. It was chaos incarnate.

The band finished the third song and the bands leader, Dave Mustaine, talked to the audience for a couple of minutes, thanked us for being there, complimented us on the intensity of our introductory moshpit display, and challenged us to be rowdier than the last time Megadeth had been there. The crowd bellowed acceptance of this challenge with the gusto of Vikings preparing to set sail. Forty five minutes later Megadeth left the stage. The crowd chants Megadeth!, Megadeth!, Megadeth!, until Dave walks out to thunderous cheers and asks the crowd, “Can you put a price on peace?” The band encores with the title track from their second studio album; Peace Sells…But Who’s Buying. They finish up, take a bow and go off stage. The lights went up and the show was over. The grin I had felt on my face earlier took at least two full days to fade from my face, but the effect that concert had on my life has never left me.

A Modern Day Snake Charmer

There is something intoxicating about stepping into a tool truck. Several times over the years I have memories of stepping up into a Mac Tools or Snap-On Tools Truck and a while later finding myself standing in front of my toolbox smiling with some new tool and a receipt for it’s purchase in my hand. Upon occasion when I’m in the truck paying for said tools (which is usually a sobering situation) I’ve seen this experienced this scenario from a different aspect.

The mechanic walks in and takes one glance at a sea of shimmering chrome interspersed with other industrial colors like black, red, orange, green and yellow and you see his eyes glaze over as a wonderful cherubic grin spreads across his face. He is now almost completely under The Tool Mans control.

The Tool Man is a precision instrument with skills in retail, merchandising, psychology and anthropology hone shaving sharp. He is sure footed and positive as he describes the tools that catch your eye and explains in pure cold logic why it is imperative that you own this tool. Then you see this Man among Men grow a touch softer and subtly warmer as he lays out just how easy the payments can be made. He is a master at his craft.

Soon the happy mechanic floats out of the tool truck mollified with his new purchase and a slip of paper outlining a financing plan even NASA is impressed with. He wanders in to dote and gloat about the Holy Grail he possesses and soon other mechanics feel the pull of The Tool Truck.

And The Tool Man smiles.

Comfort from strange places

When I was diagnosed with high blood pressure it was difficult trying to get the blood pressure medication dosage correct. The first few months I spent roller coasting between high and low pressure as my body adjusted to this new chemical and I struggled to remember to take the pills consistently and continuously. I would feel better then I would start feeling like I did prior to treatment which I will explain some other time.

At some point during the 2nd week a concerned lady who I worked with named Donna asked how I was doing. She knew I was trying to control this condition and was very worried by how I looked. I told her what was going on and she wondered if the dosage was lowering my pressure too much and “Bing” on went the light. I wasn’t sure about the dosage but I thought I knew what I could do to feel a little better. I trudged upstairs to the employee cafeteria, dropped in a quarter and two dimes, and punched the buttons that would tell the machine to provide me a “large” cup of black coffee. As soon as the light went out, I took the cup and sipping it went back down stairs to try to get some work done. I finished the cup about 10 minutes later and with in 20 minutes I felt better than I had in a long time. I don’t know if it was the caffeine of just a placebo effect from feeling so crappy but that cup of coffee helped me smile with relief.

I know the reputation vending machine coffee has and I am guilty of mocking it myself but the coffee that comes out of the machine at Dueco Inc. in Waukesha, Wisconsin is one of my own special security blankets. If I’m stressed or bummed, or pissed about something, $.45 and a trip to the Dueco Lunch room goes a long way to help out. Considering what some people spend for comfort food or chemicals to change their mood, I think I lucked out!