Friday, July 31, 2009
My wife, some friends and I went to see Ministry play at Mr. Small’s Theater – a church that was converted into a concert venue years after it closed down. Good show. The pit was vicious. We always do our best to steer clear of that. Moshing is for meatheads who've almost figured out what music is about, but not quite. Even when I was 15 years old, I had no interest in pits. The pit grew large quickly and soon we were at the edge of it. It was tolerable for about the length of two songs. After that, some guy kept crashing into us. My wife got pissed and kicked him square in the ass with her boot. It was magnificent, perfectly placed, and he nearly fell forward onto his face. He only staggered though. Then he spun around, quickly and angrily. He wanted somebody to punch. He realized a woman had committed the offense and that he couldn’t hit her back. Almost immediately thereafter he made the connection that she was with me. I could see him give some thought to punching me and I could see him think better of it. I was grateful. Not because I was scared of him. The guy was easily 60 pounds lighter than me and quite a bit shorter. He didn’t look like a fighter or even especially fit. I was grateful he kept his head, because I really didn’t feel like getting thrown out two songs into Ministry’s set. Nothing was said. He just retreated back into his choreographed violence and shot me a dirty look. Later he crashed into our friend Ellen. She put her hands up to block his charge and ended up tearing his shirt in the exchange.