concert

In May of 2001, I went to a Black Crowes concert in Camden. We were a little bit late for the show because we almost ran out of gas and James had lost the tickets but we finally got inside and as we walked onto the lawn surrounding the stage we heard the last two notes of �In the Meantime.� Spacehog � the opening band; a band that I listened to on Z-100 before radio went to the dogs; a band that my older friends and I had been listening to since we�d been friends�had just finished their set.
   I was pretty pissed as we sat down and waited for the next band to come to the stage. While waiting we watched as more and more people filled the area around us. Two women in their late twenties sat down right in front of us. They turned around and asked if they�d be in our way. We said it wouldn�t be a problem. A few minutes later they stood up and told us that they were going to go get some beers, and asked us if we wanted anything to drink. I had no money and said �no thanks.�
   As they walked away, my friends started to flip out. We were all underage and I had just passed up and opportunity for them to get drunk. I mentioned that I didn�t remember becoming the spokesman for the group and they could have said something if they had wanted anything.
   Eventually the tense atmosphere lifted and we started talking again. Mike and James began to argue jokingly about something. And when the argument heated up, Mike tipped James over onto his back. Suddenly, out of nowhere some kid appeared and straddled James� face screaming �Eat My Chicken! Eat My Chicken!� over and over again.
   Keith, Mike, and I didn�t react other than to stare in confusion with our mouths agape. After a few seconds, the kid stood up and ran away. In hindsight, we should have pushed the kid off of James or beaten him up or something� anything. In our defense, by the time we could wrap our heads around what was going on, it was over.
   During the whole incident James had remained immobile on the ground, like a possum playing dead. A few moments passed and James stiffly sat up. His face was a mask of shock like ours except for one small difference; James looked like he was about to cry. Finally, James broke the stunned silence � �His balls were in my eyes.� The three of us nodded� that about summed it up.
As the sun set around us and James continued to rub his eyes, Oasis came out to play. Liam Gallagher stepped up to the mic �Mmmph mugga mugga grumble rumph!� he declared. The crowd went wild. He continued, �Homina jim jazz haspass rubble!!� The crowd went even crazier. Everyone was screaming and cheering and yelling for Oasis and their incomprehensible accents. Mike leaned over to James who was clapping excitedly, and asked him if he had a clue as to what the singer had just said. James said �No.�
I don�t think that anyone could understand them. I suspect that Oasis couldn�t come up with any good stage banter and decided to just wing it with English in general. It�s an odd example of the herd mentality when you see a crowd of a few thousand people all clapping and looking clueless as to what they are clapping about. I think that in that moment if Liam had told the crowd to �gum rummly nosha� they would have gladly followed his orders. And a thousand people would all do different things hoping that at least one of them would get it right.
Eventually Oasis left the stage after playing a cover of �I am the Walrus� to top off their hour long set of near-Beatles covers.
While Keith, Mike, James, and I stood around waiting for the Black Crowes to play, some guy started tugging on Mike�s sleeve. We all looked at him. He was a short man in his early forties. He was drunk. And when he spoke his voice was gravelly and almost non-existent. He asked us if we could yell.
He repeated his question; �Can you guys yell?�
�Sure,� Mike said with a shrug.
�Yell �To-may-to,�� he said in his barely-there voice. We just looked at him. �Yell �to-ma-to�� he said again.
�Why?� one of us asked.
�When I get separated from my friends we have a code word so they know I�m looking for them. Our code word is �To-ma-to.� Like, if there�s somebody yelling a name there�s another hundred people here with that name. But nobody�s going to pay attention if you yell �to-ma-to' because nobody�s named To-ma-to.� While he was speaking he was tipping from side to side about to fall down but somehow, he managed to keep the beer in his hand from spilling a drop.
He took a gulp and continued, �I was sitting with my friends someplace over there�� As he trailed off he stuck out his finger and pointed across the entire complex with a broad sweeping motion. At least he had the presence of mind remember that he had been sitting in the amphitheater at some point before getting his last beer.
�So you�ll really be helping me out if you�d yell to-ma-to.� We looked at each other. His reasoning made some sense.   So we counted to three and yelled �TOMATO!� as loud as we could.
Drunk Man was leaning forward with his hands on his knees because everyone knows that leaning forward helps you see better. We all looked in the vague 270-degree area that Drunk Man had designated as the place his friends were. And rather than having a few drunks respond to the code word as planned, the entire crowd as far as I could see was staring at us. I quickly turned around and pretended to be looking for where the sound had come from. My friends just stared back at the crowd.
After standing straight-ish again, Drunk Man began to explain to us how he had gotten lost. He stuck out his arms and unsuccessfully tried to line up the beer stands in the back as he told us that despite lining up the beer stands and where his friends were sitting and lining up the beer stands and where his friends were sitting and lining up the beer stands� his internal compass had experienced some sort of malfunction. Drunk Man pondered that as he took another gulp of beer.
Then he began to speak, mainly to Mike because the rest of us had inched away, about� stuff. Listening to him speak became a lot like watching the Spanish channel or Oasis: every now and then you could pick out a word that you recognize.
Drunk man asked where we were from. Mike said the shore. �New Jersey??� Drunk Man asked incredulously. Then he started talking about different streets and restaurants in Philly.
�We�re still from New Jersey.� Mike reminded him. Drunk Man continued to talk about Philly while he finished his beer.
When he reached the bottom of his cup he wiped his face. And with a look of determination, Drunk Man stumbled out of our lives and into the crowd to look for his friends.
The Black Crowes eventually came out to perform. I�m not a fan of theirs but they put on a really good show. However, I think that night wasn�t just about good rock music. It was about listening to good music with a bunch of good friends. And making new friends like Drunk Man and that kid who put his crotch on James� face and the other kid who stood uncomfortably close to us while the Black Crowes played and made us all put our wallets in our front pockets. I think we all learned a lot that night.