The Silence of Awe

Based on my feelings of my third TMBG concert, in Lancaster, PA.

 

Sean stood on his tiptoes but could still not see the front of the line. There was a Kool-Aid sea of teenagers and twenty-somethings eagerly peaking around the corner of the Reptile House to get a glimpse of the tour bus—and beyond. Sean agreed with them. After spending an hour-and-forty-two minutes being pelted by ice drops, things were boring just listening through the uninterrupted silence to soundcheck behind the brick walls.

That was particularly eerie. The silence of awe. Sean had come from the city, and the city came from noise. Inner-city rock clubs made noise. Shuffling so he could hear the scrape his Docs made against the pavement, he kicked a clod of mud off his shoe. Sean had braved the Greyhound to travel to the quieter side of Pennsylvania to hear this band—that never came to Pennsylvania. They had chosen this place in the center of Hicksville and a dump called the Reptile House. It was an old rectory, not an amphitheater. It was embarrassing being here, traveling this far, yes, but Sean needed to see this band.

            Sean looked over his shoulder. Two girls had shown up sometime after him. One girl had a tattoo of the Disappointers’ first album on her neck. The other girl had nothing noticeable on the skin she chose to reveal—which was probably too much given the weather report. She shivered in her Ugg boots and gave him a tinkling smile. He returned it and turned to face the doors again, but heard himself, in a deep baritone, say “hi, what’s up?”

            “Hi!” The girl with the Ugg boots gushed. “This is our first concert!”

            Sean nodded, grinning. He could tell.

            People at the front of the line were starting a chorus of one of the Disappointers’ more recognizable songs and the girls behind him in line seemed to squirm more with every prattled line. Tattoo Girl screamed with gusto, pushing her friend’s back to join in.

            “No,” Ugg Girl laughed shakily. “No I-I can’t—”

            “Scream as if you’re in hell!” Tattoo Girl shouted back.

            Sean, feeling his flirtations were over, turned back to the front. The Kool-Aid Sea were starting to jump up in waves and swells, swallowing the first-timers in their enthusiasm. Sean checked his watch, but as if the rousing chorus had unhinged the door of the Reptile House, a tired man with a clipboard stepped out, yelling for people’s attention and pointing vaguely to the side.

            “Will Call over here! Over here!”

            Three other roadies were going up and down the line checking for online tickets, ticket stubs, and weapons of mass copyright infringement. Fanboys and girls were quickly shoving their camera phones into their hoodie pockets, pretending they were protecting their hands from the white specks that were beginning to fall from the sky.

            He watched them fall out of the sky like stars that had gotten bored of their surroundings. The first of the season, Sean thought sentimentally. He shuffled his feet again, trying to bring back some feeling.

            “Hey,” a voice barked. “Gotcher ticket?”

            “I need to buy one still,” Sean said, still staring up, determined to find the point where the flurries started to come into focus.

            “That line then,” the roadie said before moving on to the Gushing Girls.

            Sean looked to where the man had pointed vaguely over his shoulder and he gushed himself.

            It was shorter!

            Sean budged past people cursing the convenience of the internet and stood rock solid as—he counted, onetwothree—fifth in line. This had to be his third concert and he had never had this great a chance before! He was going to be right there, right on top of the stage, man. The fury of excitement brought a thick flush to his cheeks. Suddenly, the $98 roundtrip ticket seemed worth it.

            “ID?” a voice came snidely.

            Sean was brought back to the line that had somehow moved very quickly without his watch. He hadn’t noticed that his hand was out and a different roadie now held his twenty dollar bill.

            “Sorry, huh?”

            “Do you have your ID with you, sir?” The roadie was now glowering at him. Sean had a crazy urge to shout back at him, “Lighten up! Rejoice! It’s a Disappointers concert and you’re being PAID to be here!”

            But the meaning of the roadie’s words hit him.

            “Oh, oh no I don’t have it with me but I can’t definitely promise you that I’m twenty-four.” He half-heartedly held out his hand to be stamped, knowing he’d feel nothing but air.

            “Sir, please follow up the staircase,” the roadie said, looking past him and moving on to the couple now behind him.

            Like a death march, Sean made his way to the staircase, trailing behind what looked like a fourteen year old and her father. Walking three floors, still more teenagers trailing behind him, he could see why as he walked out on to the precipice. Because that’s what it looked like. The second floor, overlooking the stage was a wrap around balcony with less than five feet walking space. Meaning, less than five feet to stand against the railing. Feeling the swish of eager teenyboppers fly past him and stick to the railing like multi-colored gum, Sean nearly ran to one of the last half-inches of space left along the edge, overlooking the stage.

            “My god,” Sean groaned. He saw the keyboard, already set up and plugged in, but there was no chance in hell that he could see the amp.

There’ll be no guitar riffs in my face today, Sean thought, looking back fondly. That had been the first concert. Nothing beat a first concert in his opinion, but you’d think they’d get better.

A depressing half-hour went by as Sean looked at the continuous stream of the Underaged enter the balcony. He saw their faces alight then fall…gradually…as they realized that they had been hoodwinked. Sean shook his head, unable to budge for any of the newcomers. He just didn’t have the heart too.

Sean looked over the edge of the railing, thinking briefly of jumping when he saw them. The Gushing Girls were right there, almost crawling on the stage, right beneath the keyboards. They might as well be touching the feet of the gods, Sean thought.

The room darkened and the crescendo of noise rose to new levels. Sean grinned, despite himself. This was home now. He could feel the familiar pulse and flurry of activity in the center of his chest. That wasn’t his heart. That was the music. That was the anticipation.

It was dark, but he could feel them. They walked on stage and the harrowing light of someone’s camera phone gleaned against a bass guitar as it was picked up lovingly.

Sean left the balcony out of his mind because he was there. The show lights came on in one swooping rush and the music matched the crescendo of screams, hitting his face in one warm gust.

Sean closed his eyes and screamed as if he were in hell.

 

 

Author's Note

Needs work.

Reviews

Haha! I love it!:)
There'salways something disappointing though when you're put that far away from the stage, or on that awkward angle so that you can't really see- good portrayal though, I like it :) x