I had asked for the week off so that I could be there to rock out to the fullest. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
The concert was at night, so I had to come up with something to do for fun until the festivities began. I called up Smoky, and we decided to take a nice afternoon drive, MNT style. We drove to Fort Charters, which is about a 40 minute backroad drive from Waterloo. Given the fact that we had Rum and Budweiser to back us up, we were feeling it as we strolled into the historic fort. There were a few old-ass people there just walking around, but we just strolled up with a 12 pack and a grin, and officially took over the fort for the MNT. We found a nice dining hall, and started pounding beer. After the fun-filled afternoon at the fort, I dropped off Smoky, and made my way to the concert.
I showed up at the venue about 2 hours before the gates were opened, so I visited nearby Dave and Busters. D and B is like an arcade for adults, booze is served, and every damn arcade game you can think of is in there. However, you have to be 21 to get in, and my birthday was still a week and a half away, but I thought it was close enough, so I gave it a shot. The bouncer asked for my ID, and just then, a large group arrived, and instead of checking my ID, he said, "Have you been here before," I said yes, and he said, "go on in."
I went immediately to the bar and asked for a beer. The bartender asked, "Have you been here before?" I said yes, and had a tall, frosty Budweiser. The beer brought back the buzz of the fort invasion, and I was feeling fan-fucking-tastic. If you’re not familiar with the arcade Time Crisis, you have a gun, and a foot pedal, which you use to duck behind stuff in the game. I managed to bring a barstool from the bar, and play two of these games at once, which was tough because they were about 3 feet apart. I was doing okay, but I had no hands to drink my beer. And right about that time, a 12 year old kid came up and said, "Damn dude, that looks tough" I swear to you, this kid looked exactly like Gary Fucking Coleman. I was like, "Take this gun dude, I need to drink."
20 minutes and 4 beers later, Gary and I beat the fucking game.
After a few more cocktails and videogames, I decided to head over to the concert. I had a fairly good parking spot, which would surprise me later in the night.
I entered the place and went directly to the beerstand. I was asked for my ID, and I thought my student ID, which has no date of birth, would suffice. The dude was like, "There's no date on here, but Rolla is a tough school, I've got a friend that goes there, but I need something with a date man"
I reluctantly handed him my driver's license, he looked at it, and said, "Hmm, close enough."
I ordered a JUMBO Beer for 6.50, and it was the size of about 2 full beers, and I was on the sauce again. I stumbled around, bought some shirts, and found a batting cage. I played in high school, so I gave it a shot. Even with the condition that my condition was in, I was smoking the ball. The guy putting the balls into the pitching machine was wearing a goddamn Cubs hat, so I saw fit to rock like 5 line drives at his face. Even though he was behind a net, he was still dodging.
By the way, the Cubs Suck.
I then stopped by to see a local band, Core Project rocking a side stage. I was fucking plastered by this point, because I had bought another JUMBO Beer. I bought the band's CD, because they had what appears to be a dynamite sound.
But I could have used a little more cowbell. (SNL-Christopher Walken)
Next I stopped by a shop, and bought some mardi gras beads that had potleafs on them. I thought they went well with the St. Louis Blues hockey jersey that I was wearing in the 90 degree heat.
After about an hour at the concert, I decided that it was time to find my seat.
When I did, I found that The Roots were rocking out pretty hard, and I was digging the shit out of it, they've got the funk.
After the Roots set, I was on my way to get another JUMBO Beer, when I was intercepted by a hot chick and her boyfriend, "I want that necklace" she said. I was concerned for a moment, with her boyfriend there, but the dude took his arm off of her, and put it around me and said, "You know what you have to do" At that point, the biggest shit-eating grin ever crossed my face, as we both stood there staring at his girl, she unleashed her left tah-tah. Disappointed, the boyfriend and I looked at each other and shook our heads, he said, "You're going to have to do better than that." I added, "Yeah, I didn't even get to see Righty" After a good chuckle, she untied her top, and we got to see her turntables in all of their voluptuous glory.
... I immediately bought another set of potleaf beads.
... and another JUMBO Beer
And it was finally time for the boys from Omaha to take the stage. I was stationed on the very first row...
of the deck behind the high-class reserved seats. Mitch North, the biggest 311 fan from SEMO, had pit tickets
I still envy that motherfucker to this day.
I remember putting all of my stuff in the lounge reserved for some company, and little else about the actual concert. Mitch told me later, that he saw me as I was kicked out of my section, for what, I have no fucking idea.
After rocking out for over an hour, it was time to leave. Absolute pandemonium ensued.
At the entrance to the parking lot, there were huge-ass coolers filled with free soda for everyone, I managed to stuff 4 in my pockets and one in each hand, and that might seem overkill, but it ended up being my saving grace in the hours to come.
If you've been paying attention to the story so far, you might have noticed that I have had an incredible amount of booze on the day. I have no idea exactly how many, but given how fucked up I was, and how much money I spent ($250) I would ballpark the number at about 50-60 beers on the day. If you've ever had that many beers, most within a 5 hour span, you know that your memory is just not what is normally is. That being said, I had NO FUCKING IDEA where I parked my car.
At first, I just started walking laps, talking to all kinds of people trying to see if anyone had seen a dark gray Bonneville in the house.
After an hour, and two free sodas, I started using my remote to try and find the car, with no avail.
After two hours, and four free sodas I decided to bite the bullet, and ask Security to help me find the car.
At this point, the parking lot was empty, and I was all alone, but I had been flying solo for the entire concert, so I was used to it.
The fine folks at the UMB Bank Pavilion set me up with a golf cart cruise of the parking lot in search of my beloved Pontiac.
After 30 minutes of driving around, the security guard was ready to call in for backup. We returned to "HQ," where the UMB troops were enjoying a bit of a Daiquiri Factory, I asked for a drink, and was given a nice, tall Daiq.
Just as I got my cocktail, I was informed that the head of security was going to give me another tour in a much nicer golf cart than the one I had been in before. As I walked out to the High Society golf cart, the guard said, "hey man, you've got to get rid of that" meaning my daiq, so, as any boozehound would do, I chugged the damn thing right in his face, put the glass back on the table, and hopped in the ride to find my car.
As we set off on our journey, I thought at how goddamn fucking hilarious I must have looked, I was riding in a golf cart with the head of security, while wearing a hockey jersey, and potleaf mardi gras beads, and the concert had ended about 3 hours ago.
I even had this guy stumped, he said that if my car was stolen, it would be the first car stolen that he had heard of in his tenure with the place.
Then he said, I don't think you could have, but let's check over here. We drove over a grassy patch, and made our way into the employee parking area, where, low and behold, the DBL D 40 was waiting for us.
I fucking managed to park in the employee parking area. The guy was astounded, "how did they let you park here?"
"I have no idea dude, I was hammered"
After the guy was convinced that I was sober enough to drive home, he let me go. They had to open the gates that they had closed 2 hours ago, so that I could get out of the concert.
I had been lost...
…on foot, for three damn hours, you would think that now that I was in my car, it was all downhill from here.
NOT SO MUCH.
I was still feeling it, especially with the daiq joining the party. I stopped at a nearby Denny's for a midnight snack. I got lost exiting the Denny's and managed to drive to a town that I've never heard of in Missouri. I stopped by a gas station, and told the clerk that I was lost. Luckily, this gas station had a Map/Atlas/Gazetteer section, and we had about 4 maps that had the route from where I was to home on them.
To give you an idea on how for off I was, on the grid of one map, I was in section B-5, and I needed to be in section G-8. I was way off.
I then started off towards home,
I thought,
When I reached Washington Park, MO, I realized that I had again been lost, but I had been lost here before, so at least it was familiar. So I stopped by a gas station that had about 3 feet of bullet-proof glass in front of the clerk.
Some dude in the parking lot was a 311 fan, so he brought his collection of maps, and even gave me one with the route I should take marked on it. I gave the dude my last three bucks, and started for home.
I barely beat the sun to my house, the sky was starting to lighten up, and I made my way into my driveway at about 4:45 in the fucking morning.
The next day, I noticed that both of my big toenails were fucked up. One was blood red throughout, and the other was as white as rice on a paper plate in a snowstorm.
Weeks later, I would tear off about 75% of both nails.
I've often thought of getting a 311 tattoo, but two rides with security, a free daiquiri, a pair of supple breasts, five line drives at the Cubs, and two lost toenails goes way beyond any tattoo that I can think of.
Can't nobody do it like 311..