For Those About to Rock... / by Deborah Clague

My evening was soaked in testosterone. First off, I went to see the movie 'The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard'. I'm not really a Jeremy Piven fan, but I can respect how he's elevated his douchebaggery into an artform. It takes a certain level of charm to turn sleaziness into an endearing character trait. This "charm" would be sorely missed during the second part of my evening however.  

Upon leaving the theatre, my friend and I decided to sneak into the AC/DC concert. As we made our way across Maroons Road, "Back In Black" providing the soundtrack to our extemporaneous decision, we noticed dozens of other people with similar thought in mind, each scouring for unmanned openings into the fortification and climbing various safe and (mostly) unsafe pillars, trees and other chassis in order to gain a better vantage point to watch Angus Young and crew. Instead of risking detainment or an overnight cell with an obese drunkard named Bubbles, we decided to perch ourselves against the southeast stadium wall and enjoy the unfettered view of the jumbotron at the side of the stage. A free show is always good. Doubly-so when you realize the person 10 feet away paid over a hundred bucks for it. 

I rocked out to all of my favorite tracks (was surprised Thunderstruck wasn't in the encore) and then came to realize that sometimes free comes with a price. An inebriated individual came over and stood directly in my line of sight. I shook my head and uttered some un-niceties to my friend that are better left unwritten. The man then turned around and muttered something to me. I assumed he was trying to sell me some illicit substance or other and shook my head even more aggressively. But then - oh, sweet Jesus! - then my friend pulled me away and I realized what exactly was going on. Inebriated man was urinating all over the place. On the wall. On the jeans of a fellow concertgoer. On someone's purse. A pouring rain, he took no prisoners. He spared no lives.

And I am now forever traumatized. 

Time for me to hit the sack.