The true story of the time I wore a floral miniskirt to a metal concert.


I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I was going to a punk rock / garage rock / metal show with Captain Apollo.

Well, I did.

My life. 

Captain Apollo is in a band that plays original punk rock slash garage rock slash rock slash I-don’t-know-what-the-techinical-term-is. Basically, they can be put into a show with a fairly large range of different bands.

The show was in a town about 40 minutes away from us, and the bar was ten minutes outside of that. Basically in a cornfield across from that creepy gas station where people in movies get murdered a lot. You know the one.

We actually passed by it assuming it was a strip club. I can’t even make that up.

Needless to say, the joint was not, upon first glance, somewhere I would frequent. Luckily, I was with a crew of manly men from my hometown, three of whom were wearing leather jackets, so I felt safe enough within a three or four foot radius of any of them. There were definitely some characters in that bar whom I would not have ordinarily wanted within a three or four mile radius of me, but that’s neither here nor there.

And yes, of course I pick this occasion to wear a floral mini skirt and spangly sandals. The girl who wore sweatpants to a fraternity formal once. WHY.

I’m just gonna go for the gusto and tell you that the first band that played was named for two different bodily functions.

Sneezecry?

Poopfart?

Crampgroan?

Nope. Bloodsnot, actually. An instrumental death metal band named Bloodsnot. Which probably gives you a pretty decent idea of I thought how my night was going to go.

Needless to say, I wouldn’t consider myself a death metal type of person. The “hardest” person I think I listen to on a regular basis is probably Avril Lavigne.

At any rate, Bloodsnot (BloodSnot? Blood Snot? bLoOdSnOt?) starts playing, and almost immediately three or four guys start “dancing”.

I think you could technically consider it dancing, in that they were moving and music happened to be playing. To me, it mostly looked like a group of zombies having a collective seizure.

It basically looked like this:

But in a smaller space and everyone was wearing cutoff teeshirts. EVERYONE.

You can probably imagine by this point I was two Blues down the hatch and had backed myself into a corner with Captain Apollo and the second scariest-looking townie we brought (although, objectively speaking, what’s scarier – a bleached mohawk or a half-dreads, half-shaved head combo?)

However, I have to say, once beer number three kicked in, (oh yes, it was that kind of a night) I sort of enjoyed Bloodsnot’s music. I know this because I apparently (very drunkenly) later told their guitarist that I enjoyed their performance as much as possible without ever wanting to listen to it again.

This is probably why I shouldn’t talk to people. Or go out into public places.

When Apollo’s band went on stage, I switched to whiskey gingers, ended up on the dance floor, and got into trouble with the stage manager for starting a mosh pit. Yes, the tiny half-asian girl started a mosh (well, shoving match, really). Hilariously, the Mohawk Guy got the telling off, but I totally shoved him first. It was very metal. In fact, I was definitely  starting to feel pretty metal at this point, you guys. Never mind the fact that Mohawk guy is actually very nice. I felt like shoving somebody. MUAHAHA.

During whiskey ginger number two, a band full of 30-something men wearing wallet chains screamed into microphones and rolled around on the floor while their bassist, who was inexplicably dressed like a pirate-slash-douchebag, roamed around the bar playing next to unassuming patrons. At one point the guitarist accidentally kicked over his mic stand onto the lead singer, who was still lying on the ground.

It was super metal.

I totally danced by myself in the middle of the room while my friends pretended not to know me.

Metal?

The last band marked whisky ginger number three. I vaguely remember that the lead singer was dressed like a total nerd. Or was one. Either. He did not look very metal, at any rate, and a bunch of girls showed up and started dancing, and that was even less metal.

I think that’s about when I started talking to Bloodsnot about how I really enjoyed their set as much as possible without enjoying it at all, and Captain Apollo decided it was probably time for us to go home.

Except when we did get home, Varenka had accidentally locked me out.

Metal. 

 

 

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