back
finger eleven at the Masquerade, Friday, October 13, 2000
Friday the 13th. What a weird combination of luck. 13 is usually my lucky number. It was even my number when I played high school ice hockey as the first line center. I guess when it’s Friday the 13th they try to have a little fun with me.
I had been trying to get tickets to the Elecstacy / finger eleven / Fuel show since Sunday night, when I first heard that finger eleven would be playing. I called the radio station 5 times a day, every day, trying to be caller number 13 to win a pair of tickets so that my fiancée, Pamela, and I could get into the sold out show. Our objective was merely to see finger eleven live for the “First Time”.
The day of the show was upon us, and we still had no tickets. I picked up my $40.00 paycheck from my first week at Hot Topic so that together we’d have substantial funds to pay scalpers. Before we left, I had to take my cat, Raven, to the vet for a quick
stitch removal. I was already dressed for the show; my bright red Canada t-shirt that I bought when I visited Toronto in the summer, and my favourite, most comfortable pair of jeans. The cat decided to pee in my lap.
We were finally on the road to the show, with new pants on. We missed our exit off of the highway and had to explore new territory to find our way back. After traveling through a confusing mess of thick traffic for at least a half hour, we found our way to the M.A.R.T.A. train station. When we de-boarded the train after a bumpy ride, we had no idea which way to turn and ended up wandering aimlessly around the streets of Atlanta. A young man helped us out and pointed us towards the Masquerade.
Having no idea of the extent of our walk, we turned happily and began. We walked up and down a series of steep hills until we were at the point of exhaustion. After what seemed like hours, just when we were about to give up, and just when not having a
belt was really beginning to frustrate me, we spotted the large black structure called the Masquerade. We had decided that even if we weren’t able to get tickets, it would be more than satisfying to get a “Glimpse” of the band we came to see, finger eleven.
We were only standing around outside for a few minutes when Scott came out. Shaking like schoolgirls on our first dates, we slowly approached him. When his bald head turned towards us, we were both starstruck. It may sound like a cheesy celebrity
story, but those who have met him know how piercing his glassy blue eyes can be. I began to ramble on about how much I loved the band, and how hard I had tried to see them the other 5 or 6 times they had been down to the Atlanta. Then we began talking about Burlington, Ontario, our mutual hometown. He took our names and said he’d try to get us on the Guest List before taking his lasagna back to the bus.
Sean was the next one to come out the door. As we approached him, we saw the same eyes peering out from behind his glasses. We talked for a while about a lot of different subjects. My fiancée asked about what kind of food they get on the road, and his
answer can best be summed up by one word: Shit. We also talked about Burlington and, as it turns out, we both attended the same schools up until the 8th grade. Then we talked a little about Canadian accents. After he left, Scott returned with the amazingly good news that we were both added to the Guest List. Not only were we going to see finger eleven, we were going to see them for free.
Things were definitely starting to look up for our cursed day. We were ecstatic and could hardly stand still in line. When James came out, Pam was sweet enough to hold our place in line so I could go say hi. He was in a little bit of a hurry to go get his helping of lasagna, but I was happy enough to say hello and shake his hand.
Upon our entry into the club, we ascended a flight of stairs. Atop this flight of stairs is where the show was about to take place. I was in awe, and quickly hurried with my fiancée as close to the front as we could comfortably get. We were shaking in
anticipation of the spectacle we were about to behold. Elecstasy came on first, and did a really good job. Their name is the result of the combination of electricity and ecstasy. They came all the way from London, England to tour with these bands. I liked their music a lot, but the crowd didn’t respond very much to their performance. The biggest cheers they received were the result of playing a cover of “Dazed and Confused” by Led Zeppelin.
When Elecstasy was finished, we all waited anxiously through multiple mic and equipment checks. It seemed to take forever, but finally the lights dimmed. James walked out on stage with his guitar. He began slowly playing the intro to “Tip” and the
band slowly filed in. The song immediately got people moving, and I was almost instantly separated from Pam. I could literally feel the floor of this second story club sinking. I decided to try to get closer to the band, and in all of the pushing I managed to find a spot. Little did I know, however, that I was in for the surprise of my life.
The girl who I had managed to get up next to had some sort of problem with my new position, a problem I still cannot identify. As she began shouting obscenities at me, the large plaid shirt wearing guy on the other side of me started to shove me around. I was trying to enjoy the performance of “First Time” while being pummeled from both sides. As the girl continued throwing obscenities, she threw in a few elbows to the ribs, for good measure I assume. This did not sit well with me. I made a comment about
throwing elbows, and then was pushed over by the large plaid shirt wearing guy and the girl's boyfriend simultaniously. Considering I was holding my pants up with one hand for lack of a belt, my balance was somewhat distorted. As I stumbled backwards, my arm
swung up across her face, and the two guys were all over me trying to fight.
The next thing I know, the men in black with their flashlights were escorting me out, with what sounded like “Drag You Down” providing an appropriate background music. I have no idea what went on, or why I’m the one being removed. I am not offered an explanation, even after I ask. I am only offered a giant black “X” to cover up the “Come On Eileen” stamp I was given upon my entry into the club. Bewildered, voiceless, exhausted, dehydrated, and beaten, I walked back down the long road that led me to the Masquerade with my fiancée. In tears, we stopped to rest.
When we regain some of our strength, we continue walking. We stopped at a gas station for some Fuel (Dr. Pepper and Orange Crush), and promptly proceeded on our journey. The day was confusing, to say the least, and we were both worn out. It was then
that the light at the end of the tunnel appeared.
As we walked down the road, a man named Lenny Love approached us and began reciting poetry. Apparently he is a street performer / Sunday School teacher / poet. Although it was hard to look him in his eyes because of his lazy eye, he kept us entertained with his surprisingly intelligent rhymes. The walk seemed to take less than half the ammount of time it had taken earlier in the day. When we got back to the M.A.R.T.A. station, he showed us how to get in without paying, so we gave him the 2 bucks we would have spent on tokens. In return, he gave me a stack of printed poetry and his blessing in our marriage. He was a very nice man, very gentlemanly. He invited us to come see him again sometime, which honestly sounds more appealing than seeing another concert at the Masquerade.
Here’s one of Lenny Love’s poems:
tender love
love is tender
and love is sweet,
a tear from your eyes, rolls off your cheeks,
it drops in the river, as the rivers rise high.
open your heart, to the spiritual blue skies....
--jeremy
