Metal Weekend (Part 3)

Metal Weekend (Part 3).

There is a part of me that just wants to call this post, “I am a big idiot” or “dumb, dumb, dumb.” Ever since I heard about Manson playing so close to home, I have been absolutely over excited. It was a sign and I knew it, any time I am that excited and looking forward to something, it will all go horribly wrong somehow. For months I wanted nothing more out of the night than to get a picture with Mr. Manson and to have fun rocking out with my friends. After I realized I did not have my engagement ring on, when I thought I had lost it while in line, all my priorities changed. Most of the night from then on was spent crying and beating people who stared at me and judged me for my tears. Since I rarely cry in public or ever, I might have been a bit oversensitive about it, such as life though.

We got to Hampton and took over our favorite restaurant with all our friends, we sat and ate, and we sat and drank with a view of the line making its way into the venue. It was good to see so many people I knew and had not talked to in a while and meet some new people too. Through five drinks and food, I did not notice I was not wearing my ring. Even while waiting in line, empting my pockets to get searched, I did not notice. When I put everything back where it belonged in my pockets, then I realized and then I was stuck in a venue with no re-entry. Once I found an official looking lady who worked there, I sobbed by story to her and she went out and spent a good 20 minutes looking for my ring outside, I was so thankful for her effort even though it was fruitless. We called the bar next door and they looked around for it too. No matter how hopeless you think humanity might be, then you find kind souls like these people who remind you that it really might not be so bad after all. I wish I knew their names so I could go back and thank them all. From then on, the goal of my night was to make it hurt more than the thought of losing my ring did. My heart was shattered on the beer soaked floor and there was nothing I could do but try to enjoy the night as best I could.

While The Pretty Reckless played, I was still waiting for word from the ring search party so I don’t really know if they were any good or not. My friend told me that the cute little blonde singer played Cindy Loo Hoo in the Jim Carrey version of the Grinch. Since I can’t stand him, I will take her word for it. She was cute, they sounded good and in any other state of mind, I would have tried to make it up front to see just how cute she really was. They played long enough for me to chug down two more vodka and red bulls and chain smoke a few cigarettes while I tried to stop crying.

Manson took the stage and I was determined to get myself in trouble. I only remember maybe the first three songs before I checked out and went to wherever it is I go to when I am rocking out at shows. Everything I know from then on, I was told about later by my love. There were some little chicks in the crowd next to us so I was trying to behave for their sake, apparently I failed and even made the skin headed guys behind us a bit nervous. My love told me that at some point a drunken guy bumped into me and I shoved him through the crowd and beat him down. All I remembered was getting some beer splashed on me. At some point, according to my love, my rowdiness inspired the girls next to me and for a while we had a little chick pit going until some guy tried to come through it and was taken down by the three of us girls. I was not there for it; I will take his word for it though. He is quite amused at the point of view he gets being a good two feet taller and always standing behind me for “protection”. Apparently I am a spectacle to see when I get rocking out, too bad it is a spectacle I will never get to see or know.

The night ended and I came back to my broken hearted reality, checked in with the lost and found, checked in with the bar, walked around anywhere I might have been earlier that night and made my way back to the car without a shirt or the picture I had hoped for. I cried the whole way home thinking someone might have found my ring and kept it.

We got home, settled in for a few smokes and some Game of Thrones but I still could not stop thinking about my ring. All my life I never thought myself the marrying type, some girls my age have already been married two or three times already, so losing the first ring anyone ever gave me for an engagement made me feel like the biggest piece of shit on earth, like I might not be meant to get married after all. It seemed like a sign. If he had not been so calm about it, I would have been so much more of a mess than I was. He didn’t care; he still had me he said. As sweet as that was of him to say, I still felt like I had brought my kitten to the beach, drop kicked her in the ocean and left her there.

Now and then I give him tea tree scalp massages at night and on the night in between the shows I thought he might like one, it had been a while and we were both sore from the night before. Whenever I do this for him, I take my ring off out of fear of ruining it and set it aside and since it had been a while since I had given him a massage, I forgot to put it back on. I forgot I had even taken it off until I went to take it off at the show and it was not there. All of this came rushing back to me at three in the morning and I found the ring under the couch where it had been knocked at some point, my guess is by the kitten. She does like her shiny stuff. Then I cried and hugged him for another hour or so out of relief, while my shattered heart repaired itself.

So, no pictures, no videos or shirts but still one hell of a story from a night that could have been better but ended up with a happy ending after all was said and done.

4/29/2012 5:12 PM