Post by Chastity on Nov 15, 2005 19:56:15 GMT -5
I am very very late on this. I was narcissistic enough to start my own thread since I did not want my story to get lost in the other thread and besides, it was the Quebec one and here I am speaking about the Montreal one. I promise to get my pictures to a scanner as soon as possible!
The Montreal Warped Tour this past summer was sick. Although the lineup was bordering on mediocre, having a backstage pass truly saved the day and made it one of the highlights of my 21 years of existence on this planet.
-Four bands that contained friends of mine were playing. I was feeling mighty proud. It was a lovely day filled with hugs, two cheek kisses, sarcastic remarks about my sluttiness, assumptions on how exactly I got that backstage pass (Did a musician chum of mine offer it? Did I win it? Did I slob a knob?) and various other things.
-Female partner-in-crime (a.k.a. the lovely girl friend of mine whom also has a weakness for all things narcotic and is the youngest out of our female triangle of mayhem) was tripping out on shrooms and conveniently vomitted the contents right next to the Dropkick Murphys tent. I was more petrified than unamused. For those of you who know me, I am deathly afraid of vomit. Put a spider on me and I will probably shriek and flick it off. Puke in front of me and I will look as if I was informed that a terrorist attack has wiped out the entire island of Montreal. And that's exactly what she did. "Ch-as, h-h-hel-p mm-me-e-e" She managed to say in between chunks. I will take a bullet for any of my friends any day but there will be no way I would be there if a friend was puking. And they all know that. I have informed every single one of my friends that that would be my betrayal towards them and that they shouldn't take it personally.
-Friend was escorted to band's tourbus. She stayed there
to clear her mind and to be babysat.
-Bumped into security guard whom I had known since I was 16. First time in years, I see him. Brief reunion takes place. Two cheek kisses exchanged (ah! Vive le Quebec!)
while heading to a table in catering. Catering is like sitting in your high school cafeteria. Except you're sitting with rockstars instead. Met Scruffy (Dropkick Murphys) by accident. He offered us his chocolate cookie and we politely refused (come on, we're not that star struck to freak out over eating some Boston musician's cookie) Nice quiet dude he is.
-Used a tourbus bathroom for the first time. Felt like a cleaner porta-potty. Ew. Then again, maybe it's different when the bus is running. And yes, the rules of "Don't do number two" and "if you must, please dispose in bag"applies.
-Shared a cigar with my favorite Irish guy who also was playing that day.
-Got trashed during Irish guy's set.
-Met sleazy American band, got free beer from a merch dude who is to be unamed. Got trashed.
-Was planning on seeing Thrice. Listened to Thrice's set. Or so I thought.
"Since when did Dustin (Thrice's lead singer) look so Up Da Punx!"? "Wow. I never knew Thrice rapped" I thought naively. Realized this was not Thrice. Realized I was watching The Transplants. Damn free beer.
-Continued partying it up with sleazy American band. Continued partying it up with their groupies. Later found myself hungover and miserable seeing seeing eye to eye with boobs and butts. Note to self: Go to strip club with trusted confidantes.
-Ate a poutine with Karro after the ordeal. Eyes were bloodshot, body was aching and I yearned to rest my body on my fluffy bed. I was aksed many times if I had smoked a joint and I had to confirm that my lungs had not come in contact with a single whisp of that sweet skunky taste of ganja. Met up with my girl friend who had not gone to the show. She was busy celebrating her birthday at Foufs but decided to call it a night and come rescue me. She brought my ex along and this was actually a relief to me. Regained my energy and my smile and shared, hysterical pee-in-your-pants laughter with them.
That was my end of the day. Meanwhile...
My two other partners in crime were at Big D's video shoot of Little Bitch, the Montreal edition. Apparently, my friend was ready to soil her pants because Tim Armstrong stood right next to her and was asking Big D if he can participate. Then she witnessed puking from various bands. Bands who were featured in the video (people have to chug pints) "Chas, thank God you weren't there!" She told me. I still feel sad I did not get to see the making of the video.
The Montreal Warped Tour this past summer was sick. Although the lineup was bordering on mediocre, having a backstage pass truly saved the day and made it one of the highlights of my 21 years of existence on this planet.
-Four bands that contained friends of mine were playing. I was feeling mighty proud. It was a lovely day filled with hugs, two cheek kisses, sarcastic remarks about my sluttiness, assumptions on how exactly I got that backstage pass (Did a musician chum of mine offer it? Did I win it? Did I slob a knob?) and various other things.
-Female partner-in-crime (a.k.a. the lovely girl friend of mine whom also has a weakness for all things narcotic and is the youngest out of our female triangle of mayhem) was tripping out on shrooms and conveniently vomitted the contents right next to the Dropkick Murphys tent. I was more petrified than unamused. For those of you who know me, I am deathly afraid of vomit. Put a spider on me and I will probably shriek and flick it off. Puke in front of me and I will look as if I was informed that a terrorist attack has wiped out the entire island of Montreal. And that's exactly what she did. "Ch-as, h-h-hel-p mm-me-e-e" She managed to say in between chunks. I will take a bullet for any of my friends any day but there will be no way I would be there if a friend was puking. And they all know that. I have informed every single one of my friends that that would be my betrayal towards them and that they shouldn't take it personally.
-Friend was escorted to band's tourbus. She stayed there
to clear her mind and to be babysat.
-Bumped into security guard whom I had known since I was 16. First time in years, I see him. Brief reunion takes place. Two cheek kisses exchanged (ah! Vive le Quebec!)
while heading to a table in catering. Catering is like sitting in your high school cafeteria. Except you're sitting with rockstars instead. Met Scruffy (Dropkick Murphys) by accident. He offered us his chocolate cookie and we politely refused (come on, we're not that star struck to freak out over eating some Boston musician's cookie) Nice quiet dude he is.
-Used a tourbus bathroom for the first time. Felt like a cleaner porta-potty. Ew. Then again, maybe it's different when the bus is running. And yes, the rules of "Don't do number two" and "if you must, please dispose in bag"applies.
-Shared a cigar with my favorite Irish guy who also was playing that day.
-Got trashed during Irish guy's set.
-Met sleazy American band, got free beer from a merch dude who is to be unamed. Got trashed.
-Was planning on seeing Thrice. Listened to Thrice's set. Or so I thought.
"Since when did Dustin (Thrice's lead singer) look so Up Da Punx!"? "Wow. I never knew Thrice rapped" I thought naively. Realized this was not Thrice. Realized I was watching The Transplants. Damn free beer.
-Continued partying it up with sleazy American band. Continued partying it up with their groupies. Later found myself hungover and miserable seeing seeing eye to eye with boobs and butts. Note to self: Go to strip club with trusted confidantes.
-Ate a poutine with Karro after the ordeal. Eyes were bloodshot, body was aching and I yearned to rest my body on my fluffy bed. I was aksed many times if I had smoked a joint and I had to confirm that my lungs had not come in contact with a single whisp of that sweet skunky taste of ganja. Met up with my girl friend who had not gone to the show. She was busy celebrating her birthday at Foufs but decided to call it a night and come rescue me. She brought my ex along and this was actually a relief to me. Regained my energy and my smile and shared, hysterical pee-in-your-pants laughter with them.
That was my end of the day. Meanwhile...
My two other partners in crime were at Big D's video shoot of Little Bitch, the Montreal edition. Apparently, my friend was ready to soil her pants because Tim Armstrong stood right next to her and was asking Big D if he can participate. Then she witnessed puking from various bands. Bands who were featured in the video (people have to chug pints) "Chas, thank God you weren't there!" She told me. I still feel sad I did not get to see the making of the video.