Post by decay;; on Aug 28, 2006 13:23:37 GMT
THE TALES OF READING ROCK FESTIVAL - SUNDAY 27TH AUGUST 2006
I woke up early on Sunday morning - 8am, with the two tickets happily sat on the dining room table. Still in my pajamas I slouched downstairs, got some orange juice and got changed - striped white and black jumper, drainpipes, converses, and a military shirt, which I hoped would make some kind of reference to The Black Parade.
Zoe arrived at 9.30am, as hyper as me, and half an hour later we had arrived at Richfield Avenue, which was flooded with people of all shapes and sizes, kitted out in black and band shirts. My dad handed me the tickets, giving me some very vague instructions, and together me and Zoe crossed the very busy road to the main gates.
Here we looked at eachother. The festival rules stated that all under 16's had to be accompanied by an adult. Well, we're only 14. And with no ticket-holding adult, we had no choice but to try our luck and see if we can pass off for two years older.
Well, success. The guards just looked at our tickets and waved us through into the mass traveling down an alleyway. The sides were covered with posters for the performing artists - I noticed that several posters reading 'The Black Parade' had the shit ripped out of them. But that instantly became irrelevant when we followed the throng of people and soon discovered we were lost. After standing for 10 minutes on the phone to Jess, we tried our luck at walking through the nearest campsite after spotting more people still with tickets, and found Wristband Exchange.
More shifty looks at eachother followed. This was the difficult bit. But keeping calm and handing over my ticket, I was surprised to not have security pulling me to the ground but instead, a nice green plastic ribbon tied onto my wrist. It read: Carling Weekend READING SUNDAY. I grinned as me and Zoe left the tent and found our way to the main gates, going right into the arena opposite the enormous main stage.
I'll say it now. The place wasn't packed. In fact, it was practically empty. It was 11am and there was only about 100 people at the most in the front of the stage, which was cordoned off by barriers. A few people further to the back were setting up blankets and claiming their spots, and without further ado I pulled out my phone and gave Joe a call, as we were meant to be meeting up with him. No surprise, he was still in his tent. Time to explore.
When Joe next called, me and Zoe had already taken my folder containing my drawing of Gerard to the welfare tent for Jess, who had a backstage pass. Joe explained down the patchy line that he was now in the arena by the tripod. However, upon our return, we discovered that there were now masses of people in the back round the tripod - yet still very few in the pit. So we came to a decision - fuck it, lets go to the pit. So we did. Six rows from the very front on the left side of the stage, in front of the huge CARLING WEEKEND READING banner. Score.
The first band on was Mastodon. Truth be told, I hated them. The fucking bass drum was so loud that everything sounded the same. It was a relief when the finally left the stage and their banner came down. At this point, me and Zoe began to edge a little closer, immersing ourselves in the fifth row of very tall people. As the technicians began to set up for the next band, I spoke to Joe again and texted Yazz a few times.
Killswitch Engage took to the stage in all their glory, Howard Jones swearing his face off about every fucking thing. Okay, so I've never listened to them, but they were far better than the first band. Especially when the guitarist randomly appeared right at the barrier and screamed. Fucking scary, wish I'd gotten a picture.
Once they were gone, the next banner came up - it just screamed TAKING BACK SUNDAY without even saying it. I think this is where we were joined by Jess, who had succeeded in shoving her way through the now full arena. We were now only a row from the front yet our view was still obstructed by two very tall people at the barrier.
Taking Back Sunday were the first band to claim use of the big screens and as soon as I saw Adam Lazzarra appear it was hard not to begin screaming. Now may I just say, Adam is a bit of a... player. Haha. Well, he really complimented the audience, telling us how good we all looked and how we're so beautiful. The cameras managed to capture every stage act he did - the majority of which was his microphone tricks, which resulted in him nearly knocking out the guitarist. I must say, they got the biggest reaction of the whole evening. Makedamnsure, Cute Without The E, What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost, Twenty-Twenty Surgery, A Decade Under The Influence were the main songs played, and practically everyone was singing along. Adam was in his element.
And suddenly it was over. While the familiar technicians, which included a Ray Toro look-a-like, trooped on to take off the instruments and bring on Less Than Jake's drumkit and guitars, the tall people in front of us dived over the barrier - the only way of leaving the pit. And with me shouting "QUICKLY!", me and Zoe surged to the barrier, gripping the cold metal for dear life in case anybody else might dare approach. Jess stayed behind us talking to a bloke named Mike, who'd come all the way from Brighton and was here for Bullet For My Valentine, the next act.
May I say now, we'd done it. We'd reached the front, the closest you could get to the stage and indeed, the band. We were now first in line for water. Sure, we were on the left of the stage, still in front of the banner, but hey, we'd made it. Now we'd have to hold on for Less Than Jake.
So they come on. I start laughing, mainly because I can't stand them. They were more backing music for the real entertainment - watching people being pulled out of the wild crowd and run past us to the exit with members of security tearing after them. Less Than Jake managed to stir up a reaction nothing like what we'd seen so far - circle pits, collisions, even a mass-scale Mexican wave, where we all sat down and I really noticed how colossal the audience had become since first arriving. Me and Zoe saw a Spiderman, a Superman, a bride, many guys in drag, and three blokes, each painted with one word from Less Than Jake being taken past by security. Finally they left.
And then everything went wrong. Three blonde girls in Placebo shirts popped up behind me, talking furiously about Brian Molko. And then, believe it or not, he appeared behind the semi-transparent banner at the side of the stage with his wife and daughter. Instantly, the teenie girls pushed to the barrier, knocking me backwards so that I was clinging to it with one hand, screaming for Brian. His daughter began to cry and his wife took her away and he followed with a quick, slightly upset glance at the hysterical girls.
Unfortunately, they refused to leave the barrier, leaving me left at the second row with my arm still holding onto the barrier being crushed as they continued to scream for Brian Molko, waving hand-made t-shirts around. They even asked security to take them backstage to meet him. So, in light of this, I found it very difficult to enjoy Bullet For My Valentine, and I don't think anyone else did with the girls constantly yelling for Brian, who was apparently on the other side of the stage now. They didn't even know the words.
But it was still Bullet For My Valentine, and I could see Matt Tuck rather clearly. His accent is so fucking hard to understand! Anyways, once they'd left Jess decided she had best leave if she wanted to meet MCR before they played, so we helped chuck her over the barrier into the very nice security guards arms, who showed her where to go. The screaming fangirls had moved out of the way so I pushed them aside a little and reclaimed my spot on the barrier, ready for - Slayer. Well, I ignored them, and the Placebo girls still screaming. I just occupied myself with other thoughts - this was the last band before my dream came true. And me and Zoe were at the barrier again.
And finally, after many encores which bored me shitless, Slayer left. And slowly, the next banner came up. I grabbed Zoe's arm and pointed as slowly but surely, the words My Chemical Romance appeared, their new logo in all it's glory. I watched ecstatically as the guitars were wheeled on, spotting a white Gibson that was sure to be Frank's, but without a name on it, and Ray's usual set of instruments. Bob's drumkit was wheeled on to applause from me and Zoe, and the technicians came on to tune up.
This was when a few things began to happen. First off, Zoe grabbed my arm.
"Why are they putting on raincoats?" She asked, pointing at the security, who were pulling blue rain macs on, putting up the hoods. Looking up at the sky, I saw it was perfectly clear. Already, I could guess. I didn't say anything though. Instead, the announcer got there first.
"And next on the stage we have My Chemical Romance, who will be on within the next ten minutes!"
Like a airplane revving up, a dull roar filled the venue - it didn't take long to realise the audience were booing. Fucking booing. Behind me, a bunch of Slayer fans were joining in with shouts of "Fuck My Chemical Romance!" and the like. Now I was certain what was about to happen.
"They're gunna bottle them," I whispered to Zoe, my heart in my throat.
And sure enough, the technicians left, and Ray Toro took to the stage, guitar swinging round his neck. With a huge amount of booing, a wave of bottles began to fly in his direction, right onto the stage, narrowly missing him several times. Bob followed, protected by his drumkit, then Frank and Mikey (here, Frank grinned at the bottle-throwing audience, who just yelled and bombarded him instead), and finally Gerard, carrying a giant Union Jack flag and walking to our side of the stage, where me, Zoe and some Scottish girls were the only ones in our section of the audience cheering and waving. He put the flag next to Ray and they both put up their hands, signaling for the audience to bring it on.
Now Ray looked shocked, as did the others, but somehow I knew Gerard had known this was going to happen. As had the security, and you couldn't help but wonder if the crowd had planned it too. None the less, the band jumped into I'm Not Okay, Gerard constantly moving as bottles flew past him. In the first song alone, Frank had been hit, but he still ran and jumped around the stage, on his knees and everything.
Gerard introduced the band, to much booing as the constant flow of bottles continued to fly at him - he still hadn't been hit. I can't remember the order of the songs played but I remember which ones were - I'm Not Okay, Give 'Em Hell Kid, Helena, It's Not A Fashion Statement It's A Deathwish, You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison (which Gerard happily dedicated to the bottle-throwing crowd) and two new songs - Dead! and House Of Wolves.
So lets cut to the chase. While Ray was happily kicking the bottles in mid air, one little bastard managed to score and hit Gerard right in the side. A huge amount of cheering ensured, which Gerard simply greeted with something along the lines of "Thanks, motherfuckers". They still gave it their all. I was impressed.
The Scottish girls, Zoe and me still continued to scream right against the barrier, surrounded by bottling throwing fans, and we could both SWEAR that Gerard looked at us and smirked slightly. Frank was also looking in our general direction, probably seeing if the bottle throwing was calming down yet as we were on his side of the stage. I didn't pay any attention to the big screens - I could see them clearly and shouted every word, it was fucking immense. Gerard seemed to be enjoying himself despite the crowds shitty reaction, and wouldn't be put off when he said what he had planned to say - a big fuck you to the Daily Mail. He'd read the legendary article too.
The other song they played was Thank You For The Venom. Possibly the most important song of the set, as the cascade of shit falling onto the stage made it even more worthwhile. And once Frank was satisfied that his guitar was smashed up enough (he ended up holding half the body, the neck completely broken off and all the strings destroyed), the band stormed off to much cheering from everyone. We were cheering because we love My Chemical Romance - everyone else was cheering because they were glad to see them gone.
Me, Zoe and Jess (who had returned after the second song) chose the hard way out - pushing our way back out of the pit, and once we were out the shock of what we had just witnessed began to set in. My Chemical Romance were the only band to of been bottled so far and we were fucking annoyed. Anyway, Jess decided to try her luck backstage again (last time, she hadn't been able to find her escort there) despite warnings from me that MCR probably weren't in the mood for meeting people after playing an amazing show met with a shitty audience. Me and Zoe left the venue and walked up and down Richfield Avenue for a little while, returning shortly later to find Placebo just finishing off their set.
Going back to welfare, we found Jess, who told us that security had insisted the band had left. She gave me back my drawing in it's purple folder, and once we'd left the tent Zoe grabbed it from my hands.
"I'm going to get this signed for you, I promise." She said slyly.
I raised an eyebrow, "How you going to do that? We can't get backstage."
Zoe grinned, "Well, security can. I'll give it to them."
Now I'm still getting over what happened. The staff were setting up for Pearl Jam as Zoe approached the backstage door, me following her skeptically. She spoke to the man at the backstage door for a little while, who told her as politely as he could that he wasn't allowed to meet the bands. We began to walk away, Zoe lagging behind. And suddenly...
"ALLIE! ALLIE!" Zoe screamed. I thought she might be wondering where I'd gone so I walked back, watching her tug on the arm on some guy. I ran up to her to stand at her side as she desperately tugged on the guys black jacket until he finally turned around. It was him. The blonde hair which is actually a little more ginger than I thought, the big blue eyes, the black lipring...
IT WAS BOB FUCKING BRYAR.
Zoe had just assaulted Bob Bryar and he was stood right in front of us, staring down at us with wide eyes and a totally blank expression.
Here Zoe started rambling on excitedly.
Zoe: Ohmygod, I have this friend...
Allie: *points at self*
Zoe: ... And she's this amazing artist, and we're like really big fans, and... are you really Bob Bryar?
Bob: Urr yeah, that's me.
Allie's mind: '!!!!!!! American accent !!!!!!!"
Zoe: Ohmygod, erm, do you think you could take this to the band and you could all sign it?
Bob: Well urr, I can't make any promises about it coming back. I don't know where they are either.
Zoe: Well, could you sign it then?
Bob: Sure.
*Bob takes paper out of wallet and random security guy hands him pen. Here I realise that nobody else has noticed Bob fucking Bryar stood there.*
Bob: *leans paper on wall* What's the name?
Allie: Alison. It's, urm, one L.
Bob: *writes*
Allie: Do you like it?
Bob: *nods* Here you go. Keep an eye out for the others, we're all around somewhere.
Allie: I will! Thank you so much!
Zoe: Oh, and by the way, well done earlier, you coped really well with all those bottles everywhere.
Bob: *eyes go wide* Yeah, that was wierrrdd.
*Bob starts to walk away.*
Allie: Thanks again!
Zoe: Ohmygod, yeah, thanks!
Bob: No problem. Bye *strokes Zoe's arm and disappears backstage*
I can't believe how calm I kept!
Not much else happened after this - just lots of 'WE MET BOB BRYAR!' and screaming, never dropping the subject and keeping an eye peeled for the rest of the band. Sadly, we never saw the rest of them and later found out that after Pearl Jam every band had ran from the venue into the vans are driven away.
We were SO SO SO lucky to even SEE Bob. It was like a 1/1000000th chance. And we got it. And now I have my drawing of Gerard signed ^_^
Sorry Robbie, for calling you shortly after and screaming down the phone...
And we finally got home at 1.08am, when my Dad explained that he'd seen My Chemical Romance playing on TV and said that Frank's a pissed-off madman =]]
The End.
And now, some of the finer quotes:
Howard Jones (Killswitch Engage):
You know what? I love something. It's called the female reproductive organ. It looks like something from the deep sea, but I fucking LOVE IT! It looks like an oyster. So next time you see a girl with nice tits and a nice oyster, I want you to fuck her hard for me! You can tell why my mother never comes to our shows.
Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance):
Thank you for the water bottles. Thank you for the slimy green shit that I'm slipping on. Thank you for the tomatoes. Thank you for the apples. Thank you motherfuckers. Thank you for.... THE VENOM!
Adam Lazzara (Taking Back Sunday):
*In a drawl* We're gonna play you another one, because you all look so damn good.
Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance):
Now I want to talk to you for a bit before we do our next song. Have any of you heard of a piece of shit called the Daily Mail? Now they wrote a fucking article calling our fans a cult. A fucking cult. That we promote self-harm and suicide. Now I don't want any of you motherfuckers out there to hurt yourself because NOTHING is worth hurting yourself over, you hear me? Now say it with me - FUCK THE DAILY MAIL. FUCK THE DAILY MAIL. FUCK THE DAILY MAIL.
Random guy that comes into welfare tent: Oh my god! I'm about to have sex! I need a condom right now!
Welfare staff: Now where did I put them...
xoxoxox
EDIT: They played Cemetery Drive too ^_^
I woke up early on Sunday morning - 8am, with the two tickets happily sat on the dining room table. Still in my pajamas I slouched downstairs, got some orange juice and got changed - striped white and black jumper, drainpipes, converses, and a military shirt, which I hoped would make some kind of reference to The Black Parade.
Zoe arrived at 9.30am, as hyper as me, and half an hour later we had arrived at Richfield Avenue, which was flooded with people of all shapes and sizes, kitted out in black and band shirts. My dad handed me the tickets, giving me some very vague instructions, and together me and Zoe crossed the very busy road to the main gates.
Here we looked at eachother. The festival rules stated that all under 16's had to be accompanied by an adult. Well, we're only 14. And with no ticket-holding adult, we had no choice but to try our luck and see if we can pass off for two years older.
Well, success. The guards just looked at our tickets and waved us through into the mass traveling down an alleyway. The sides were covered with posters for the performing artists - I noticed that several posters reading 'The Black Parade' had the shit ripped out of them. But that instantly became irrelevant when we followed the throng of people and soon discovered we were lost. After standing for 10 minutes on the phone to Jess, we tried our luck at walking through the nearest campsite after spotting more people still with tickets, and found Wristband Exchange.
More shifty looks at eachother followed. This was the difficult bit. But keeping calm and handing over my ticket, I was surprised to not have security pulling me to the ground but instead, a nice green plastic ribbon tied onto my wrist. It read: Carling Weekend READING SUNDAY. I grinned as me and Zoe left the tent and found our way to the main gates, going right into the arena opposite the enormous main stage.
I'll say it now. The place wasn't packed. In fact, it was practically empty. It was 11am and there was only about 100 people at the most in the front of the stage, which was cordoned off by barriers. A few people further to the back were setting up blankets and claiming their spots, and without further ado I pulled out my phone and gave Joe a call, as we were meant to be meeting up with him. No surprise, he was still in his tent. Time to explore.
When Joe next called, me and Zoe had already taken my folder containing my drawing of Gerard to the welfare tent for Jess, who had a backstage pass. Joe explained down the patchy line that he was now in the arena by the tripod. However, upon our return, we discovered that there were now masses of people in the back round the tripod - yet still very few in the pit. So we came to a decision - fuck it, lets go to the pit. So we did. Six rows from the very front on the left side of the stage, in front of the huge CARLING WEEKEND READING banner. Score.
The first band on was Mastodon. Truth be told, I hated them. The fucking bass drum was so loud that everything sounded the same. It was a relief when the finally left the stage and their banner came down. At this point, me and Zoe began to edge a little closer, immersing ourselves in the fifth row of very tall people. As the technicians began to set up for the next band, I spoke to Joe again and texted Yazz a few times.
Killswitch Engage took to the stage in all their glory, Howard Jones swearing his face off about every fucking thing. Okay, so I've never listened to them, but they were far better than the first band. Especially when the guitarist randomly appeared right at the barrier and screamed. Fucking scary, wish I'd gotten a picture.
Once they were gone, the next banner came up - it just screamed TAKING BACK SUNDAY without even saying it. I think this is where we were joined by Jess, who had succeeded in shoving her way through the now full arena. We were now only a row from the front yet our view was still obstructed by two very tall people at the barrier.
Taking Back Sunday were the first band to claim use of the big screens and as soon as I saw Adam Lazzarra appear it was hard not to begin screaming. Now may I just say, Adam is a bit of a... player. Haha. Well, he really complimented the audience, telling us how good we all looked and how we're so beautiful. The cameras managed to capture every stage act he did - the majority of which was his microphone tricks, which resulted in him nearly knocking out the guitarist. I must say, they got the biggest reaction of the whole evening. Makedamnsure, Cute Without The E, What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost, Twenty-Twenty Surgery, A Decade Under The Influence were the main songs played, and practically everyone was singing along. Adam was in his element.
And suddenly it was over. While the familiar technicians, which included a Ray Toro look-a-like, trooped on to take off the instruments and bring on Less Than Jake's drumkit and guitars, the tall people in front of us dived over the barrier - the only way of leaving the pit. And with me shouting "QUICKLY!", me and Zoe surged to the barrier, gripping the cold metal for dear life in case anybody else might dare approach. Jess stayed behind us talking to a bloke named Mike, who'd come all the way from Brighton and was here for Bullet For My Valentine, the next act.
May I say now, we'd done it. We'd reached the front, the closest you could get to the stage and indeed, the band. We were now first in line for water. Sure, we were on the left of the stage, still in front of the banner, but hey, we'd made it. Now we'd have to hold on for Less Than Jake.
So they come on. I start laughing, mainly because I can't stand them. They were more backing music for the real entertainment - watching people being pulled out of the wild crowd and run past us to the exit with members of security tearing after them. Less Than Jake managed to stir up a reaction nothing like what we'd seen so far - circle pits, collisions, even a mass-scale Mexican wave, where we all sat down and I really noticed how colossal the audience had become since first arriving. Me and Zoe saw a Spiderman, a Superman, a bride, many guys in drag, and three blokes, each painted with one word from Less Than Jake being taken past by security. Finally they left.
And then everything went wrong. Three blonde girls in Placebo shirts popped up behind me, talking furiously about Brian Molko. And then, believe it or not, he appeared behind the semi-transparent banner at the side of the stage with his wife and daughter. Instantly, the teenie girls pushed to the barrier, knocking me backwards so that I was clinging to it with one hand, screaming for Brian. His daughter began to cry and his wife took her away and he followed with a quick, slightly upset glance at the hysterical girls.
Unfortunately, they refused to leave the barrier, leaving me left at the second row with my arm still holding onto the barrier being crushed as they continued to scream for Brian Molko, waving hand-made t-shirts around. They even asked security to take them backstage to meet him. So, in light of this, I found it very difficult to enjoy Bullet For My Valentine, and I don't think anyone else did with the girls constantly yelling for Brian, who was apparently on the other side of the stage now. They didn't even know the words.
But it was still Bullet For My Valentine, and I could see Matt Tuck rather clearly. His accent is so fucking hard to understand! Anyways, once they'd left Jess decided she had best leave if she wanted to meet MCR before they played, so we helped chuck her over the barrier into the very nice security guards arms, who showed her where to go. The screaming fangirls had moved out of the way so I pushed them aside a little and reclaimed my spot on the barrier, ready for - Slayer. Well, I ignored them, and the Placebo girls still screaming. I just occupied myself with other thoughts - this was the last band before my dream came true. And me and Zoe were at the barrier again.
And finally, after many encores which bored me shitless, Slayer left. And slowly, the next banner came up. I grabbed Zoe's arm and pointed as slowly but surely, the words My Chemical Romance appeared, their new logo in all it's glory. I watched ecstatically as the guitars were wheeled on, spotting a white Gibson that was sure to be Frank's, but without a name on it, and Ray's usual set of instruments. Bob's drumkit was wheeled on to applause from me and Zoe, and the technicians came on to tune up.
This was when a few things began to happen. First off, Zoe grabbed my arm.
"Why are they putting on raincoats?" She asked, pointing at the security, who were pulling blue rain macs on, putting up the hoods. Looking up at the sky, I saw it was perfectly clear. Already, I could guess. I didn't say anything though. Instead, the announcer got there first.
"And next on the stage we have My Chemical Romance, who will be on within the next ten minutes!"
Like a airplane revving up, a dull roar filled the venue - it didn't take long to realise the audience were booing. Fucking booing. Behind me, a bunch of Slayer fans were joining in with shouts of "Fuck My Chemical Romance!" and the like. Now I was certain what was about to happen.
"They're gunna bottle them," I whispered to Zoe, my heart in my throat.
And sure enough, the technicians left, and Ray Toro took to the stage, guitar swinging round his neck. With a huge amount of booing, a wave of bottles began to fly in his direction, right onto the stage, narrowly missing him several times. Bob followed, protected by his drumkit, then Frank and Mikey (here, Frank grinned at the bottle-throwing audience, who just yelled and bombarded him instead), and finally Gerard, carrying a giant Union Jack flag and walking to our side of the stage, where me, Zoe and some Scottish girls were the only ones in our section of the audience cheering and waving. He put the flag next to Ray and they both put up their hands, signaling for the audience to bring it on.
Now Ray looked shocked, as did the others, but somehow I knew Gerard had known this was going to happen. As had the security, and you couldn't help but wonder if the crowd had planned it too. None the less, the band jumped into I'm Not Okay, Gerard constantly moving as bottles flew past him. In the first song alone, Frank had been hit, but he still ran and jumped around the stage, on his knees and everything.
Gerard introduced the band, to much booing as the constant flow of bottles continued to fly at him - he still hadn't been hit. I can't remember the order of the songs played but I remember which ones were - I'm Not Okay, Give 'Em Hell Kid, Helena, It's Not A Fashion Statement It's A Deathwish, You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison (which Gerard happily dedicated to the bottle-throwing crowd) and two new songs - Dead! and House Of Wolves.
So lets cut to the chase. While Ray was happily kicking the bottles in mid air, one little bastard managed to score and hit Gerard right in the side. A huge amount of cheering ensured, which Gerard simply greeted with something along the lines of "Thanks, motherfuckers". They still gave it their all. I was impressed.
The Scottish girls, Zoe and me still continued to scream right against the barrier, surrounded by bottling throwing fans, and we could both SWEAR that Gerard looked at us and smirked slightly. Frank was also looking in our general direction, probably seeing if the bottle throwing was calming down yet as we were on his side of the stage. I didn't pay any attention to the big screens - I could see them clearly and shouted every word, it was fucking immense. Gerard seemed to be enjoying himself despite the crowds shitty reaction, and wouldn't be put off when he said what he had planned to say - a big fuck you to the Daily Mail. He'd read the legendary article too.
The other song they played was Thank You For The Venom. Possibly the most important song of the set, as the cascade of shit falling onto the stage made it even more worthwhile. And once Frank was satisfied that his guitar was smashed up enough (he ended up holding half the body, the neck completely broken off and all the strings destroyed), the band stormed off to much cheering from everyone. We were cheering because we love My Chemical Romance - everyone else was cheering because they were glad to see them gone.
Me, Zoe and Jess (who had returned after the second song) chose the hard way out - pushing our way back out of the pit, and once we were out the shock of what we had just witnessed began to set in. My Chemical Romance were the only band to of been bottled so far and we were fucking annoyed. Anyway, Jess decided to try her luck backstage again (last time, she hadn't been able to find her escort there) despite warnings from me that MCR probably weren't in the mood for meeting people after playing an amazing show met with a shitty audience. Me and Zoe left the venue and walked up and down Richfield Avenue for a little while, returning shortly later to find Placebo just finishing off their set.
Going back to welfare, we found Jess, who told us that security had insisted the band had left. She gave me back my drawing in it's purple folder, and once we'd left the tent Zoe grabbed it from my hands.
"I'm going to get this signed for you, I promise." She said slyly.
I raised an eyebrow, "How you going to do that? We can't get backstage."
Zoe grinned, "Well, security can. I'll give it to them."
Now I'm still getting over what happened. The staff were setting up for Pearl Jam as Zoe approached the backstage door, me following her skeptically. She spoke to the man at the backstage door for a little while, who told her as politely as he could that he wasn't allowed to meet the bands. We began to walk away, Zoe lagging behind. And suddenly...
"ALLIE! ALLIE!" Zoe screamed. I thought she might be wondering where I'd gone so I walked back, watching her tug on the arm on some guy. I ran up to her to stand at her side as she desperately tugged on the guys black jacket until he finally turned around. It was him. The blonde hair which is actually a little more ginger than I thought, the big blue eyes, the black lipring...
IT WAS BOB FUCKING BRYAR.
Zoe had just assaulted Bob Bryar and he was stood right in front of us, staring down at us with wide eyes and a totally blank expression.
Here Zoe started rambling on excitedly.
Zoe: Ohmygod, I have this friend...
Allie: *points at self*
Zoe: ... And she's this amazing artist, and we're like really big fans, and... are you really Bob Bryar?
Bob: Urr yeah, that's me.
Allie's mind: '!!!!!!! American accent !!!!!!!"
Zoe: Ohmygod, erm, do you think you could take this to the band and you could all sign it?
Bob: Well urr, I can't make any promises about it coming back. I don't know where they are either.
Zoe: Well, could you sign it then?
Bob: Sure.
*Bob takes paper out of wallet and random security guy hands him pen. Here I realise that nobody else has noticed Bob fucking Bryar stood there.*
Bob: *leans paper on wall* What's the name?
Allie: Alison. It's, urm, one L.
Bob: *writes*
Allie: Do you like it?
Bob: *nods* Here you go. Keep an eye out for the others, we're all around somewhere.
Allie: I will! Thank you so much!
Zoe: Oh, and by the way, well done earlier, you coped really well with all those bottles everywhere.
Bob: *eyes go wide* Yeah, that was wierrrdd.
*Bob starts to walk away.*
Allie: Thanks again!
Zoe: Ohmygod, yeah, thanks!
Bob: No problem. Bye *strokes Zoe's arm and disappears backstage*
I can't believe how calm I kept!
Not much else happened after this - just lots of 'WE MET BOB BRYAR!' and screaming, never dropping the subject and keeping an eye peeled for the rest of the band. Sadly, we never saw the rest of them and later found out that after Pearl Jam every band had ran from the venue into the vans are driven away.
We were SO SO SO lucky to even SEE Bob. It was like a 1/1000000th chance. And we got it. And now I have my drawing of Gerard signed ^_^
Sorry Robbie, for calling you shortly after and screaming down the phone...
And we finally got home at 1.08am, when my Dad explained that he'd seen My Chemical Romance playing on TV and said that Frank's a pissed-off madman =]]
The End.
And now, some of the finer quotes:
Howard Jones (Killswitch Engage):
You know what? I love something. It's called the female reproductive organ. It looks like something from the deep sea, but I fucking LOVE IT! It looks like an oyster. So next time you see a girl with nice tits and a nice oyster, I want you to fuck her hard for me! You can tell why my mother never comes to our shows.
Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance):
Thank you for the water bottles. Thank you for the slimy green shit that I'm slipping on. Thank you for the tomatoes. Thank you for the apples. Thank you motherfuckers. Thank you for.... THE VENOM!
Adam Lazzara (Taking Back Sunday):
*In a drawl* We're gonna play you another one, because you all look so damn good.
Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance):
Now I want to talk to you for a bit before we do our next song. Have any of you heard of a piece of shit called the Daily Mail? Now they wrote a fucking article calling our fans a cult. A fucking cult. That we promote self-harm and suicide. Now I don't want any of you motherfuckers out there to hurt yourself because NOTHING is worth hurting yourself over, you hear me? Now say it with me - FUCK THE DAILY MAIL. FUCK THE DAILY MAIL. FUCK THE DAILY MAIL.
Random guy that comes into welfare tent: Oh my god! I'm about to have sex! I need a condom right now!
Welfare staff: Now where did I put them...
xoxoxox
EDIT: They played Cemetery Drive too ^_^
