For 2004, 311 Day was held in New Orleans. After taking a year off in 2005 to finish their CD: 'Don't Tread on Me' The host city for 311 Day was Memphis, because a Hurricane named Katrina fucked up New Orleans.
This year, the best day for music landed on a Saturday, so I could attend. However, Memphis was a five hour drive from my house, so I was going to have to take it easy on Friday night so that I could be ready.
Yeah fuckin right, I leave no Friday night behind, and partied like no other; returning home at about 2 am. I was set to leave Waterloo at 4 am with an unlikely ally for 311 Day: Adam 'Snatch' Riebling. It's suprising that Snatch would back me up on this journey because he's never been to a 311 concert before. Given the fact that 2004's gathering lasted 5 hours, this would not be for the weak. I awoke at 3:30, took a picture of my wasted face, and said, �Happy 311 Day, let�s go to Memphis.�
I met Riebs, hopped in his car, and we set off for Tennessee. I was rocking tunes on his stereo, and laughing my ass off about the night before. About an hour into the trip, I believe we were somewhere near Ruma, I realized something.
I left both diggity-damn tickets in my room.
After a quick turnabout, I called my dad, and asked him to get the tickets and meet us at the local Walmart. My pops always abides on my fuckups, and he met us with the tickets, and a shit-eating grin.
�By the way, numbnuts, you forgot to lock your car too.� He said, while laughing.
My only reply was, �Happy 311 Day.�
I slept from Chester Illinois to Perryville, which was about 30 minutes worth of the trip. After an eternity, we arrived in Memphis, and headed straight to the Hampton Inn. The concierge informed us that the room would not be ready until about 3 pm. Snatch and I decided to head to the venue and see if anyone else was ready to rock. We showed up to see a crowd of hundreds, most of them drinking.
I suggested heading to a gas station, obtaining some beverages of our own, and returning until the room was ready. Riebs agreed. We got back to the car, and I pulled out a gas station sandwich I had purchased hours earlier. The sandwich had entirely too much meat on it, so a grabbed a handful of baloney off of it, and started laughing.
Riebling was like, �Dude, what�s so funny.�
I said, �Man, ha ha, you know I�m going to chuck this at a car.�
He said, �Ha ha, you damn right!�
We were trapped in the parking lot, and the only way out was to drive about 30 feet down the sidewalk. While making this highly illegal maneuver, I spotted my target, an SUV. I know an SUV when I see one, because I get cut off by them everyday. It�s my belief that you should give the SUV the right of way every time behind the wheel, they think they have it anyway. Anywho, the thing was parked on the driver side, so I had to loft this handful of baloney over Snatch�s car, and hopefully, hit the windshield. I made my move, and watched as the boloney made it�s flight towards this car. It hit right on the windshield wiper, and just stuck, absolutely no bounce at all. After laughing hysterically, we moved on to the nearest gas station. I changed clothes in the bathroom, putting on my St. Louis Blues Hockey jersey, bought an 18 pack of Bud Light, and we returned to the site of 311 Day.
Riebling made the genius decision to bring some of his home-brewed beer for the trip. I informed Riebs that �Homebrew� was one of my favorite 311 songs. We took this delicious homemade beer to the T-shirt stand, where we purchased 311 Day shirts.
We returned the shirts to the car, and got into line for some wristbands. These limited supply bands got you into the pit of the venue, where only the hardcore need apply. There were hundreds of people in line, so I told Riebling that I was going back to his car for The Beer Cup. When I got to the car, I decided not to be a show-off, and just have a solo beer bong. The crew next to me noticed the majestic cup, and complimented me on it. I thanked them, and returned to line. While in line, we noticed a smell. A smell that reminded me of high school. The smell of a group of people enjoying the fruits of mother nature. Did I say fruits, I meant weed. I was offered some of the potent plant, and I declined. The guy said, �You don�t smoke?�
I replied, �In my youth, in my youth.� (Which is a Die Hard quote that is so obscure, if you knew that, I will buy you a case of the beer of your choice.)
After a while, we approached the head of the line. When we were five people back, we heard somebody say that they only had ten left. So Snatch and I got into the pit by the skin of our teeth.
I immediately wanted to return to the hotel for a much, much needed shower. We wouldn�t leave immediately, however, as I wanted to beer bong one more for the road, and in the process, bond with some fellow 311 fans. I learned that the guy from the crew earlier was named Pete, and he also brought some home-brewed beer.
This guy went as far as to make is own label, with the lyrics to �Homebrew� on the back.
He gave us two beers, and let me keep the bottle, I asked him if he wanted any money, and he said, �I�m here to make friends, not money.�
I said, �Now THAT, is the 311 way.�
After beer bonging another beer, I was on the radar of a few more crews in the parking lot. Two guys came over, filmed a few beer bongs, took a few pictures, and offered us some food. Riebs and I declined, as we needed to get back to the hotel. Before leaving, though, I needed to take a mammoth whiz. On the way to the Port-A-Pisser, I heard somebody say, �Go Blues�
I turned to see a couple that looked to be about in their forties, I walked over, toasted them, and said, �You�re good people.�
After a shower that made me feel like a new man, we returned to the parking lot, and our parking spot was right next to the couple from before. We were greeted with a �Hey, you�re back!� and I replied, �And you�re STILL good people.�
We shared a few beers, talked about the band, and felt it was time to introduce these two rockers to The Beer Cup. The guy took one immediately, and asked his girl if she would like to consume some beer. Riebs and I smelled blood in the water, and began to negotiate for this girl to beer bong. Surprisingly, she needed little convincing, and took a beer bong that was astonishingly good, and she is the only person I�ve ever seen that finished the remaining foam without being asked.
After an outdoor game of beer bong with Pete (which I purposely lost to taste more of his homemade beer) It was time to enter the arena, and rock out �til the cows pass out. Snatch and I bought two beers a piece, and entered the pit.
I was blown away by how many people were there, how big the stage setup was, and, most importantly, the fact that the pit was not a pit at all. It was a hockey rink, with the boards still standing. After checking Riebs into the boards, and receiving the same treatment, the lights went out, the crowd went nuts, and 311�s intro music �Are you Ready?� hit. 311 mostly opens shows with Freak Out, but on this night, the band opened with the song that was quoted on the back of our 311 shirts, �Hive�
I was instantly jumping and just generally going nuts, as I do at every 311 concert. But on this night, after such an awesome pre-game, I was jumping twice as high, and going pistachio nuts on the floor. The first set of the night included �Homebrew� as well as many of my other favorite tunes, the first intermission arrived, and I was sweating like Bry at a paternity test. For the intermission, a drumline hit the stage and tried their hands at some 311 tracks. We were told that there was going to be three sets played that night. I thought of three periods of hockey, and was just amped by that.
After getting two more beers, and chilling outside, it was time for the second period. The second set included the number one song that I wanted to hear at the concert: �Frolic Room.� Nick Hexum wrote the song about his favorite dive bar in L.A. named the Frolic Room. The song reminds me of Ragsdale�s in Cape Girardeau, which is my favorite bar in my favorite city.
The second intermission starred an entire marching band playing �Down� As I walked past the beer counter, the two bartenders said, �We�ve got ice cold beer, here.�
I stopped mid stride, sweating profusely, while still rocking a hockey jersey and said, �I like cold beer.�
Ten people around me started laughing, and as I bellied up to the bar, they said, �Yeah, dude, you�ve been wearing that hockey jersey all night, you look like you could use a cold one.�
I said, �I�ll take two, there�s still another period to play here.�
A few songs in the third set stand out in my mind. �Do you Right� was just a rockin� tune. Everyone in the damn house was singing along with �Unity�, and �Fuck the Bullshit� featured a visit to the mosh pit by me, where I stopped in the middle of the pit to sing along,. While absolute hell raged around me, I took the time sing along with the boys from Omaha.
About halfway through the second set, Snatch had pretty much posted himself along the boards. And I can�t blame him, not only did he drive here from Waterloo for seven hours, on a five hour trip because I forgot the tickets, this was also his first 311 concert.
We returned to the hotel at about 1 am. My sweaty, tired carcass hit the most comfortable hotel bed I�ve ever enjoyed, and I thought, �I don�t think that I�m going to make it to Beale Street (the Tennessee version of Bourbon Street) tonight.�
I was fading fast, but then, a memory came into my mind thought would bring me back from the brink of extinction. I quote now from the story �311, High School Kids, and an Air Guitar Solo.�
During the walk home, I had made a comment on the beating I took in the mosh pit when Mitch said, "Double D, are you sore"
"yeah"
"are you beaten?"
"yes"
"Are you DEFEATED."
"HELL FUCKIN NO!"
"That's what I like to hear."
Out of nowhere, I jumped up from the bed and yelled, �HELL FUCKIN NO! I�m NOT DEFEATED!� Riebling gave me a �what the fuck� look, and I said, �I�m going to Beale Street, dude.�
I shared a taxi with some other partiers, cracked a few jokes, and headed out on Beale Street at 2 am, alone.
I arrived on the strip to find a scene that reminded me of the sixties: absolute segregation.
One side of the street featured a lot of bars playing 311 music outside, and more white people than Wisconsin. The other side of the street looked like Queens, NY. Feeling confident in my hockey jersey, I journeyed on the Queens, NY side of the street, and ordered a Big Ass Beer from a bar.
I also enjoyed a beer at B.B. King�s bar, and ventured to the 311 After Party, which had apparently had a good time in my absence.
I walked about two miles that night, up and down the strip. At one point double-fisting beers, at another point, meeting a guy with a St. Louis Blues tattoo, and at another point, seeing a guy carry his passed-out girlfriend down the street. You can�t see it in my photo, but her figure eight made it�s way out of her shirt, and was looking delicious.
What made the hike tough was the fact that my calves were cramping like a chick on her period. I had to stop at a bar and sit down for a spell. A guy came up to me, and started to talk to me about the Blues, and how the team was in last place. He told me that he used to work where the Blues train, and that he�d met Barrett Jackman, currently my favorite Blues defender.
I made it back to the hotel at 4:20, which I found to be fucking funny.
That Monday at work, the President of my company noticed my limp, and asked, �Dustin, why are you walking so slow today?�
I said, �I went to a rock concert this weekend and jumped up and down for four hours.�
He said, �That must have been some concert.�
I replied, �You Wouldn�t Believe.�