If the curtain hasn't already been lifted for you, let me raise it with gusto: Most people who play in any punk band are, and always have been, pretty big nerds. But for every group of 1,000 Jello Biafras, there is at least 1 Henry Rollins in the bunch. A group who takes intoxication, poor hygiene, and maintaining a bad credit score seriously.
Last Friday, I was reminded of this the hard way.
I got the feeling that things were getting out of control when the guy in a giant rubber Zebra hat started walking around distributing beer in a skull-shaped beer bong.
It became apparent that things had gotten completely out of control when the drummer for both of the touring bands demanded a trash can that he could use to periodically vomit in while drumming.
Hosting a show like this is like getting punched in the face. Once you realize you are definitely going to get hit, the best you can do is try to make it hurt as little as possible while not looking like too much of a wiener.
Despite the fact that there were two holes in the wall and a thick coat of booze, sweat and dirt covering every imaginable surface, overall it was a pretty damn good time.
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