Trucking Stories
Lucky Bastard (feat. Nine Inch Nails)
I really like Nine Inch Nails. I was supposed to see their Fragility v2.0 tour when it came through Vancouver last Tuesday. Unfortunately, plans fell through and I was forced to shrug and say "Oh well."
Sunday: we're cruising through Denver, Colorado. My partner's asleep and I'm listening to the radio. A pretty good radio station, actually. It gave me the idea of starting my own station. It could be called 97.3 JIMM "You're listening to Jimbo 97.3, we only play the music Jim likes". Maybe the corporate types would make us play some crappy music, so we'd intro it as "Jimbo hates this song, but we have to play it anyway - stay tuned, we'll have something better coming up soon." Hehe... I'd go broke in a week, but everyone would remember my cool radio station and I'd get this wicked awesome underground rep and everyone would invite me to their underground parties and stuff. I'd probably have to start selling drugs at these parties, to pay off all those debts incurred starting the radio station. But it'd be worth it.
Anyway: as I'm listening to the radio, passing through the city, they started doing live broadcasts from the Pepsi Center (it's a coliseum/stadium thing). After one or two, I clued into the fact that Nine Inch Nails is actually playing there. Tonight.
Thanks to foreshadowing, you probably know where this is going but it took a while for the idea to form. We had plenty of time to make it to New Mexico. In fact, because we left early, we were going to have at least eight hours of down time there. So why not take it here in Denver? I was really nervous about asking my partner, I mean sure, he's laid back, but...
I stopped at a tiny truck stop in Castle Rock, just outside of Denver, and did some checking on my map (to see how far we were from Albuquerque). I grabbed a phone book to see if there were any tickets left and to get directions. Then about five minutes debating whether I really wanted to ask my partner. In the end he was just fine with it; no problems. My partner is awesome!
I drove there and (thankfully) they said they'd let me park my eighteen wheeler for only three times the normal parking cost. Cool. Time to hit a bank machine.
Bad news: I have no money. Well okay, I do, sorta... I have a credit card, but it's pretty much maxed out. I'd made a $300 payment on Saturday, so although the money came out of my account it hasn't yet been posted to my card (because it's the weekend). I've got money in a different bank account, but this piece of crap ATM can't access it. Think. Think. Think.
Okay, begin phoning friends until I find one at home and near the internet. Three tries later I found one, had him log into my online banking and transfer money between the two accounts. "Thanks man, I owe you one." Get money, park semi, go to get tickets.
I knew there were no floor tickets left for sale but ran into a scalper who was able to help out (and from all reports, only charged me $7 above the standard price. Sweet). I got me a floor wristband and eventually they started letting us in. (I tried getting the two nearby radio stations to give me some backstage passes or something. "C'mon, I drove here in an eighteen wheeler from Canada, that's gotta be worth something." They didn't have anything. Hmmph, Jimbo 97.3 would have had backstage passes. They asked me what I thought of South Park. I insulted their beer. It was all good.)
I bought a concert shirt, and another shirt for Monique, a friend that had wanted to go to Vancouver, as well as a metal pin for Kevin, the friend with the internet. I grabbed a beer in time for A Perfect Circle, the opening band. Between the parking, the scalper and swag, I have already spent quite a bit of money.
Perfect Circle were good. I chatted with some people between the sets. One of them had been a roadie for NIN after Pretty Hate Machine came out. He told me a story about how he had been trying to pull back the bassist from the crowd and Trent Reznor had kicked him in the ass - all while making $15/hr. Plus I chatted up this rather hot goth chick named Amber. The ex-roadie confirmed that this was indeed the last day of the tour. I am truly the luckiest and flukiest bastard I know.
The lights dimmed, the music started, but the curtains stayed down. They played the first track from the fragile, Somewhat Damaged. It starts slow and quiet and finishes loud and intense - the whole time the curtains stayed down while strobe lights back-lit the band - it was awesome. The curtains came up and then they really got into it. The fourth song they played was March Of The Pigs, a loud, angry, claustrophobic collection of melodies. I knew I had to go into the pit. I said goodbye to the ex-roadie and thanked him for inviting me to their after-party (sorry, can't remember his name... but the hot goth chick was named Amber).
The mosh pit was... well, a mosh pit. Hot, sweaty, cramped, congested and generally not much room to move around in. I made my way to the third row at one point; about ten feet from the band. Reznor was sweaty and dirty, just like the crowd. I was there for about half the concert, got tired of being pushed and decided it was time to crowd surf. I crawled my way up and bounced around for a bit.
That's where I lost my glasses. I had them in my hand and ran into someone else who was crowd surfing. I didn't even try to dive in after them, they were crushed the moment they went down. Fuck. That is going to be bad. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm tired. I am going to sit down a bit.
My hair, shirt, shorts, legs and socks are covered and soaked in sweat. I went to the washroom and splashed some water on myself. And on the way back I ran into the ex-roadie and his wife, coming down the hallway. Between the sweat and the water I'd just poured on my self, I was drenched. We smiled and said hi.
I watched the rest of the concert from further back (what little of it I could now see). They had these cool screens that had all sorts of light shows going on. Weird lightening-like effects, weird fire-like effects. Plenty of strobe lights, fog, decibels.
Naturally, they came back for the ever-present encore and ended the concert with Hurt. The best way they could have ended it. (I won't try to describe the song. If you've heard it, you know why it makes a good finale.)
Left the concert. My partner drove us to New Mexico and into Albuquerque to both drop off our load and find a one-hour optometrist. (And take a shower. Yah for me!)
Well, except for the glasses thing. Being a trucker kicks ass!
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