I was at a site once (The Story Specialist, I think) and the standing question was about whether I (or whomever answered) would willingly lay down in the isle of a theater full of women, after a fire started a panic stampede. In other words, "do you have the guts". Well, if I recall, I answered that if the women were wearing flat-soled shoes that I probably couldn't resist the temptation!
Fast forward to August 1st, 1998.
Site: Kitsap County Fairgrounds, Kitsap County Washington State, USA Occasion: EndFest '98, An alternative rock festival hosted by our favorite radio station, Seattle's KNDD 107.7, "The End" (thier nick name, end of the dial, get it?) Band Line-up:
Stabbing Westward
Semisonic
Harvey Danger
Marcy Playground
Green Day (excellent show, by the way!)
Crystal Method
Plus about 2 dozen others...
Attendance: Sold out at 18,000!
Well, punk..... Do ya?
Well, although we may take some criticism from some in the alcohol-free crowd, I must
confess that the lovely Lady Trample Babe and I imbibed a wee bit of the creature before
we arrived... Stimulates the musical organs, right? So in we went. And right into the mosh
pit. We both get a charge out of the wild, out-of-control mob atmosphere that prevails in
the pit. You've seen pictures, yes? It's worse. A lot of pushing and shoving. Random crowd
rushes from behind and in front. Empty circles of violent, testosterone-crazed guys open
up, and in these circles the guys slam into eachother with complete disregard to
themselves, their "opponents" or the hapless people at the edges of the circle
who are too compacted to get out of the way. Crowd surfers careening wildly overhead like
vollyballs as they're passed forward. If you pay attention, you can help pass them over
you. If you don't pay attention, they land quite solidly on your head. --ABSOLUTE MAYHEM, VERY
FUN--
Well, during the first two bands, I busied myself with helping a few of the rather-cute girls get on top of the crowd. This, of course, involved letting the girls step into my cupped hands, and then lifting them up, and yes, I'll admit it: coping a feel on these girl's shoes as they used me to get onto the crowd was quite fun, and probebly had some influence on my thinking.
A word about the girls: (Oh, Trample Babe, skip to the next paragraph, it's my duty to the brotherhood to be completely honest, so, a, skip this part, O.K.?) Wew! Okay guys, you have got, I mean GOT! to get to Western Washington some time. It must be the rain. I've been a few places, and I will state emphatically that the young women in this area are phenominal. I don't know what it is about the area, or about alternative rock, or what, but I shit you not. You had to look far and wide to find a girl who was not worth looking at. A very high-density of the daughers of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, etc, have landed themselves in this region: use your imagination.
Okay, (Hi Trample Babe) back to the interesting stuff (hee hee hee). So I helped girls up, passed a few over head (which often required me to lift their feet over my head, imagine that.) And things went about like that for the first two sets. Then there was the pause while the next band set up. The crowd walked away from the stage, which took a while because it takes a while for 18,000 people to do anything. And then IT happened. I honestly don't know why, but my mind started racing. I got that feeling, which I'm sure you all know: the feeling that you are in the presence of a killer opportunity to get a girl(s) to step on you. I was thinking to myself, "shit. I could do this!" So Trample Babe and I went to the foreward end of the area in front of the stage. Right in the middle of 'pit territory. Since it was between bands, there were few people standing around. I located the last section of grass to survive the crowd near the stage: about 30 feet from the stage. Trample Babe had a curios look on her face as I layed flat down, supine on the little bit of grass that I was determined to protect with my life!
Trample Babe stood next to me while we waited for the next band (Harvey Danger [you may be familiar with their song "Flag Pole Sitta", or not]), which would be on stage for about 40 minutes. Now this was a Seattle mob, and Harvey Danger is yet another band from Seattle, local boys, lots of local support and enthusiasm, especially from girls (hmmm!). We chatted while first a few, and then more people wandered back to the area in front of the stage. I was a little distracted as I watched girl after girl pass by me. I'll have to tell you, it's a very compelling perspective for one of us, laying down on the ground with more and more people coming in. My heart was racing as three competing thoughts raced through my head: 1. You're going to get "outed" as some kind of freak, security will kick your crazy ass out, and you'll end up on the local news. 2. Every girl in the crowd will be too polite to do anything (worse than option 1!). 3. You're really going to get hurt, dumb ass! kewl!.
People kept coming in, then, to my horror, option 1 (security) began to happen! A red-shirted security guy, wearing a wireless mike walked up to me, bent over and said "you allright?" I casually replied, "yup, no problem." And, thank the Goddesses, he left!
Peolple were now having to step over me to get closer to the stage. I was getting the occasional bemused look. But one thing became immediatly obvious: The guys shook their heads in amazement, and the girls looked down at me and smiled... BIG SMILES! WooHooo! I'm not getting up until they bring the spatula!
Then the drum-beat started (which, as many of you must know, calls the audience back to the stage). More people. Then more people. As the guys pass by, they start commenting on my apparent lack of sanity, but they're all universially admiring my bravado. Several girls step over me, all smiling, most shaking their heads. Several of the cuties comment to Tramle Babe "he's gonna get stepped on!" as they pass by or over.
I don't know whether it's from clean living (unlikely), random luck (possible), or the Goddesses looking out for me (I'd like to think so), but nestled up against me are mostly girls. I could feel their feet pressing sideways against my ribs, and against my sholders and legs. The crowd got thicker. I could see straight up, but all around me was a forest of bare legs. Again, one hell of a perspective.
Now just pause a minute and indulge me: Get this picture into your head: You're on your back on the ground. There are people (mostly girls, all the girls are uncommonly attractive), standing all around you. You know for a fact that there are thousands and thousands of people around you. The forest is not illusion. You are in a very precarious position, and you know it. All the while, you know the music will start soon. You know from painful experience how uncontrolled the crowd gets within 200 feet of the stage, much less 30 feet away. You've personally seen at concerts many people get carried out of the crowd, unconscious from the crush of people, and they had been standing up! You feel the people press in around you as they no longer have much of a choice: the void above you is a vacuum which the nature of this crowd will not tolerate for long. You look up (where else is there to look?) and you see the occasional guy look down and give the thumbs-up. But mostly, you see the fascinated faces of at least a half dozen girls looking down at you, smiling, as if they wonder whether they are going to trip over you, or accidentally step on you.
I honestly don't know why, but it was true, every girl who stood next to me, or stepped over me was fascitnated by my willingness to lay at their feet and risk an obvious trampling, for they too knew how dangerous a thing I was doing. And then it started.
The band began playing. I don't know if you know this, but the only movement that you can make (that you can control) in a crowd like this is a vertical, rhythmic "hopping" to the music. Unfortunately, this makes you very unstable. That's when the pushing began. Un-fucking-believeable! Almost immediatley the crowd surged to my left. One of the girls on my right side half-stepped on my hip as she was forced over me. Her shoe (some kind of tennis shoe) slipped off of my hip (which hurt, bless her!) and she fell down on top of me, her tight, jeans-clad ass landing right on my stomache. Whooooooof! It wasn't that I didn't expect it, but she hit hard! She pushed down on me and got up, turn to me, smiled sheepishly, and shouted, "sorry!" I, of course, being the gentleman that I am, shouted "no problem!"
The mob moved again, as forces beyond my vision forced radom motion above and over me. Literally dozens of people hurredly stepped over me, trying not to to fall over or on me. Back and forth it went. People started moving in toward the stage, and out away from it. Traffic casually passed over me, again, the guys yelling "allright!" and the girls looking down at me, smilling. I don't know about you all, but that has got to be one of the most amazing sights in the history of our sport, dozens of girls passing by and over me, all smiling down form essentially directly above me. Although none of the girls at that time voluntarily stepped on me, it still provided a killer rush. A rush that can only be from a real-life experience.
At that point, apparantly, Trample Babe figured that things were not harsh enough for her taste yet. So, right there, in front of the maybe the 30 or so people who could possibly see, she stepped up onto my chest! So I'm laying there, on the ground, being trampled by Trample Babe (no, of course she's not standing still! She's half looped!), being hemmed in by a couple dozen other people (again, thankfully, mostly cute girls), knowing that there are thousands of people behind the ones that I can see, and that at any moment the crowd could surge and I could get my face (or other, more valuable commodities) crushed underfoot. I was having the proverbial wet dream!
After a few minutes, Trample Babe got off of me. The crowd surged left and right, and then they started falling in groups. God bless girls! Because of their lightness, they're more at the mercy of the crowd forces and (for the most part) are the only ones who stumble. And stumble they did! I couldn't see my legs (a girl was straddling them at just above knee position) but I felt them being trampled continuously. I'll have to admit that the people around me tried their level best to stay off of me, but those around my legs apparantly couldn't, or didn't. From my knees down there was hardly a time when I didn't feel my lower legs getting stepped on or tripped over. The crowd was getting closer. Another girl stepped on my sholder and then fell down across my legs. I helped her up and quickly layed back down. I got kicked countless times as people stumbled over me in the surges, or in thier attempts to get closer to the stage. A blond girl (who looked increadibly tall [for you giantess fans!] who was standing with her feet pressed against my right ear was shoved by the crowd and she caught her foot under my neck. She fell forward, dragging her foot along my neck (nasty red-mark, noted after the concert). She managed to get her other foot under her on the other side of me. She too looked down at me, smiled, and shouted "sorry!" Me: "No problem!" (of course!).
Of course there were a few short pauses, while the band started up the next song, but the pauses aren't interesting, are they?
Then things got a little bit crazy. Trample Babe walked up onto me again and held on to a couple of near-by guys as she danced on my chest! To give you an idea of how crowded it was, the guys actually thought that she wasn't aware of what she was standing on! When they asked her, she smiled fetchingly at them and said, "of course I do. I'm getting a better view of the concert!" The guy on her right just looked down at her feet, and shook his head. The other guy just said "cool!" A few minutes later, Trample Babe walked off of me again, and a short string of guys came by and congratulated me on my ballsey performance. One guy High-Tened me, shouted his approval, and went back into the amorphous crowd. And one guy forced his way to my left and actually layed down next to me and whooped it up for about 30 seconds before his senses returned, realizing how stupid this was, and got up and returned to the crowd.
More pushing and shoving (remember, this set lasted about 40 minutes!) A girl stepped on, and slid off the right side of my abdomen as she stumbled over me. Almost immediately two girls to my right moved backwards towad me, one got her heel on my ribs, and both fell down onto me, slammed down on my groin and chest at almost the same time: Double Whoooooof! For a 5 foot tall, 110-130 lb girl, a dead butt drop is a healthy bit of energy to absorb (allright, I'm not, Rudy, O.K.?) They both pushed off me and stumbled to their feet, asked if I was O.K., and shouted "sorry!". Yup... "No problem!"
I don't really want to think about the implication of the next event, but at that point (as Harvey Danger was playing their most known song), Trample Babe wanted to go up closer to the stage. Problems: 1. I'm on the ground, 30 feet from the stage. 2. She's 30 feet from the stage, she doesn't want to be. Solution? Of course. Leave my dumb-ass on the ground, surrounded by anonymous strangers who could trample me to death at any moment! Off she goes (too bad for her, she missed the hottest action of the night!). Better luck next time, Trample Babe (and there will be a next time!), right! So, as she left, she looks down at me, smiles, and shouts "you're on your own!" And leaves!
The crowd surged unbelievably hard to my left again, at least 4 girls (probebly more, I couldn't possibly know for sure, I couldn't even see my stomache at this point!) half-stepped on parts of me as they were shoved over me. Again, I don't know why, but the guys must have had some sympathy and were entirely successful in staying away from me (thank God). Maybe the girls just didn't try that hard (hmmmm). And then this girl with fairly long brown hair was forced over me. As I watched with mezmerized glee she couldn't help but set her right foot squarely down on my, well, "pelvic area." She stepped down fully and firmly. Stepped up onto and over me to be absorbed into the crowd on the other side. She didn't even have time to shout the customary "sorry."
Again, more pushing and shoving. A girl stepped onto, then slid off my right shoulder as she stumbled over me. Then, for about 30 seconds the crowd let up and actually afforded me a little bit of breathing room. And then, I kid you not, this girl in a tank top (quite adequately built, mind you), shorts, and wearing those hiking boots that are popular now, walked out of the crowd. She looked straight down at me and said "Stay there." She stepped next to my waist, and (much to my surprise), set her right boot on me, just above the groin! She then proceeded to straighten out her sock, untie, and then re-tie her boot, using me as her foot stool! When she was done she didn't even look back down at me. Having no further use for me she turned toward the stage and melded back into the thronging masses.
Well, at about that point, "Harvey Danger's" set was about over and a guy reached down to me. I grabbed his hand and got up. Everybody around me was smiling and/or shaking their heads in amazement. I felt good. No. I felt awesome!
When Trample Babe finally came back, she seemed mildly surprised to find me still thicker than cardboard (was that a little disappointment in her expression?). She still looks at me from time to time with a look of worried appraisal on her face. She's even calls me a crazy f-----g idiot! Imagine that? Oh well. I definitely want to try this again at next year's EndFest. And I'll have a better plan then, too. Can you imagine what one woman can encourage other women to do if she is persuasive enough? I guess I'll find out. And we'll try to sneak in a camera too!
Keep looking up! (It really is a nice view!)
Ken
He's talking about the shoes girls were wearing:
Well,
let's see: Most girls were wearing athletic shoes (various makes & colors). The girl that stepped on my "pelvic region" was wearing dark-blue athletic-type shoe made from some kind of suade-like cloth on top, a white stripe on the side (not nike), and a yellow-rubber sole. That style of shoe was pretty common there. There were lots of girls wearing white athletic shoes (not very white by the time they got to me: very dusty down there!) Quite a few of the girls were wearing those brown doc-martin sandals. Of course, the girl that adjusted her boot (as I mentioned) on me was wearing fairly heavy waffle-soled hiking boots (pretty common in the Seattle area, espicially in the grunge crowd). There were even a few girls wearing keds, or keds knock-offs. Those didn't hurt too much when the girls stumbled over me in those. There were a couple of girls wearing shoes with heels, but I could only gaze longingly at them, as they were a couple of feet away (but nevertheless, laying on the ground in a crowd, looking at girls in heels standing near you has it's own charm, as I'm sure you could imagine.)
But thanks for the question.
Ken