You didn’t have me pegged as a Metallica fan? I get that a lot.
Anyway, Steve’s cousin won a grand (but not The) prize from the local “rock” station and karma made sweet love to Steve and I.
The important part is, we were FRONT ROW FOR METALLICA.
You’re either jealous or “What’s a Metallica? Is that off-Broadway?”
Yup, that would be the lock on the box at the hockey arena… we were where players hang out.
Damn near center ice.
After running around Casa Mak, trying to get dog poo out of the carpet before the limo came to get us left me forgetting to pick up the PnS. So Cameraphone had to suffice.
We lost a fair amount of arm hair, being so close to pyrotechnics and all.
It’d been 15 years since I last saw Metallica and I totally forgot how great of a show they put on.
So, after the last song, Kirk (the long haired guitar guy) is throwing handfuls of picks into the crowd. And well folks, that smelled like competition.
One comes hurtling towards me and lands at my feet.
I turn, crouch and someone else sees the same pic and pretty much bum rushes me into the armrest.
However, I was the victor and our gracious host now plays home to the pick.
Today the injury is slightly worse than it was when I was drunk excited and there’s a fantastic bruise line that runs from the middle of my elbow to the middle of my tricep.
Thank heaven for ice packs.