welcome to chicago
I sensed impending doom the moment Eliina and I stepped off the el. We were suddenly surrounded by swarms of little people (the youth of America), who were screaming, jumping and wearing black smudges under their eyes like miniature, black-lipsticked linebackers. They wore t-shirts reading, “Welcome to Chicago Motherf**cker,” which is clever, because wearing the real name of the song probably would get them sent to the principal’s office. The concert was Kill Hannah, plus three other opening bands. The openers were great, the floor had plenty of room to kinda-jump/dance-but-not-really, and there was even nice air circulation from the ceiling fans. Still, I felt something brewing under the surface, perhaps because every time the opening bands said things like, “Thanks to Kill Hannah for letting us play,” the entire crowd went crazy. Finally Kill Hannah came on, and the whole floor turned into a a single-celled organism morphing around. Hmm, I thought. This is interesting. Then, a whirlpool of people pushing. Since I’m not exactly skilled at moshing, I thought, why don’t I just filter toward the back. Well, there wasn’t a mosh pit, it was more like a mosh floor. So there was no escaping. At first I was like, and why do people do this, again? Then I realized it’s a whole lot of fun, as long as someone pulls you up when you fall down. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses a kidney…” Unfortunately I can’t comment on the music because I was too busy trying not to fall over. Oh well.

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