One of the more memorable few hours i've spent in a months was dragging my tired ass out to Bladensburg, MD to see an
Elephant Man gig at a
crammed nightclub. For those who think covering concerts is a glamorous biz, here's how it went down. After being temporarily slowed by gridlocked cars honking at each other and 5-0 with sirens blaring, I headed for the club. (I thankfully parked a few blocks away in front of what looked like some kind of junkyard.)
I promptly got into a massive line that must have had over 100 people in it at approximately 11:15pm. There was another line that looked five times as long (no joke), so I stayed where I was. I got through security only to find that there was no guest list. What a suprise. If any of you reading this have arranged to get into a show through a publicity firm or (gasp!) a record label, you know what I'm talking about. Nobody had a list until one security guard said f*ck it and seriously helped me out. I think he felt sorry for me because I was out there so long that folks were asking me where to go like I worked there. When I finally accepted my short lived role of "working" there, I gave one guy directions to get in. Turned out I was wrong and he reprimanded me. Got in after 45 mins of being out in the cold and feeling pissed. Oh yeah, excellent show. Maybe i'll dye my hair day-glo orange. Naah.