God, What Awful Racket!

I've now just about recovered from the GWAR concert on Monday night. The venue was pretty small, the DNA Lounge in San Francisco, but the crowd was very dedicated.

We (M. and I) were accompanied by GWAR vetran Shane, Alka, SoAM, and a friend of Shane's whose name I forget. I got tanked pretty fast after we arrived, suffered through two speed-metal bands, put in my earplugs, and went with the gang as far forward as possible while GWAR set up.

When GWAR took the stage, it was as if somebody turned on a washing machine that we were all standing in. Swirling waves of force pushed us around like so many pairs of blue jeans, and mearly remaining on one's own two feet seemed like a victory. I thought I was being smart by wearing my horn-rimmed birth-control glasses, but I realized after ten seconds that the mear notion of wearing glasses of any kind was utter madness. I was hard enough just keeping my earplugs in place; I lost a couple during the concert. (My left ear is still ringing.)

The washing machine analogy is particularly apt with GWAR, as being in the audience means you're gonna get wet. One of the primary theatrical elements of a GWAR concert is the beheading/disembowellment/vivisection of effigies of celebrities, each of which has one or more hose hooked up to spray from (what must be an enourmous) tank of (machine washable) fake blood. First on the block: John Kerry. Crime: being a loser. Punishment: off with his head! Blood sprays us like a garden hose full of blood. The crowd goes wild!

The parade continues: Paris Hilton, Michael Jackson, Osama bin Laden. I noticed that, as time went on, one by one my comrades disappeared from the pit. SoAM was thrown out of the GWAR concert (at his age, this is a monumental achievement!) for crowd surfing; he quickly disguised himself and snuck back in. Others fled for their personal safety. (I realize now that this is one of the few places in life that weighing over 200 lbs. is a distinct advantage.) Finally, my wife braved the crowd to retrieve me. But, as we were making our way away from the stage, they brought out the effigie I was there to see disembowelled: George W. Bush. I rushed the stage, both middle fingers extended. Blood sprayed everywhere! The crowd goes wild!

I got out of bed at 6:00 the next day. PM. Ears ringing, head throbbing, body aching. Nice to know you can still do it, even if it takes an entire day to recover afterward.