The Show Within The Show

It's kind of funny how you end up in certain places sometimes. I had no intentions of going to the sold out Dropkick Murphys show at 1st Ave last week. I mean I 'm more of a Flogging Molly guy anyway. At least I was until the first song the Dropkick Murphys played. Now I would consider myself a huge fan of both. I've said it before and I will say it again music is a stimulus. It was loud. It was fast. It was full on and it was awesome. I got the hook up on the tickets like 2 days before the show from my brother-in-law. Thanks, Al! It was a school night so Anna (The Wife) declined so I ended up going to the show with my good buddy Drake. More on him later.

You always get you usual suspects at a rock show. There's the kid that just had his first beer in the parking lot like 5 minutes ago and now his buddies are hauling him around the club. There is that chick who just got in a fight with her boyfriend for checking out some other little punk rock girl. Don't forget the super fan. The one that knows the blood type of every member in the band and makes it a point of not only telling you but anyone that will listen. It wouldn't be a show without those people who think its a drunken sing along. You know the ones. Better make way for that kid coming out of the pit with a busted up nose and a hand full of Chiclets that only moments ago use to be his teeth. Oh, and don't forget old drunk dancing guy. With that caste of characters you can imagine my surprise when I saw this.

His name is Gabe and he is 4 years old. Now before you get all excited about a 4 year old at 1st Ave please keep in mind it was an early show (doors were at 5) and he was wearing ear plugs. Now this wasn't a case of the parents just bringing the kid along because they couldn't find a sitter. Gabe was rocking out just as hard as anyone else in there, jamming and singing along. He's one bad ass little dude. You got some cool parents, kid and from the sound of it you may be playing the main room in about 15 years or so. 

Then there was my buddy Drake. As usual I was lugging around a bag of gear and trying to navigate the crowd when Drake informs me he's going in as he points to the pit. Going in? Like to the bathroom I thought as he disappeared into the sea of anarchy. There was no way in hell I was going to follow him in there. Three songs latter I get a tap on my shoulder and its Drake but its a much more shot up version. He looks as if he has just ran a 10k. He's sweaty, he's missing clothing, and he has a pretty gnarly case of swell-bow. Here. Take a look. 

Apparently a giant lesbian knocked him to the ground. That's the version of the story I got anyway. That's what is so great about the rock show. It's the people in the crowd. Boston's finest was blowing the roof off the place that night and my take aways were a 4 year-old kid and my buddy growing a third testicle on his right elbow. That and we had some killer sushi after the show but that's neither her nor there. Give it some thought next time you are at a show and the opening band (or perhaps the headliners) suck balls. Take a look around. There's always a show within a show and I'd be willing to bet you get to see, hear, or if you're lucky enough meet some really interesting people.

More to come,

Nick