I.
The road seemed to be streaming down the passing ridges and valleys, like a man made runoff gutter, a permanent cement mark, swimming with eager travelers just looking for a good time and their money’s worth. Exit after exit, signs after signs, bridge after bridge, and  towns after towns; we made our way down the interstate with good time.  I had never driven so far before by myself, but I kept my slight anxious shake under composure with my friend next to me in the passenger seat. The less he knew the better. We had been waiting for this concert for months and after a couple failed planning attempts and some friends dropping out, it was the just the two of us driving the nearly two hour drive to the show that night. This would be my friends first real show as an official, full-fledged, entitled, cigarette smoking, taxpaying, but still not permitted to drink for two more years, legal adult. Because of this, he had high expectations, and would try everything in his power to make it the night of his life. I, on the other hand, had already seen this band the summer before, so I knew. If this show was anything like the one I had seen, then we were in for a surprise; a big and strange surprise. All we had been doing for the last hour was listen to the same two Hendrix and Sabbath albums in the CD player. Every now and then to try to ease the building readiness for the night, I’d ask my friend if he was excited and ready to do this. He seemed good to go and I didn’t doubt it.
“How much longer?” I asked. He picked up my phone to check.
“Another hour at least”, he replied. “We’ll still get there when the doors open.”
“Oh ok,” I kept my eyes on the road. I just wanted to be there already.

“We should look for some spots to crash for tonight on the way back. We’ll be tired for sure after the show,” he said.
“Oh this drive doesn’t seem too bad. I honestly was planning on just driving straight home after. It’s only a two hour drive”.
“I don’t know,” he said concerned. I could tell he wanted to keep it safe and not try to push our luck. I quickly told him that we’d decide when the time came. I wasn’t concerned with the ride home; I was too busy thinking about what we were about to see. Hopefully we'd  make it out alive. 
      II
We finally got to the venue around 6:45, fifth-teen before the doors officially opened. We parked the car and headed up to the doors of our future hangout for the next five hours; the Mercy Lounge. This place was at the back end of a parking lot on the outskirts of the city. Train cars and other machinery surrounded the place, we’d be left alone here I thought. We made our way up to the doors, got our hands marked, and headed upstairs. The Mercy Lounge was really a renovated nicer city loft with a full stage, a long bar going along the wall, and a deck were we could smoke and get some fresh air. It didn’t seem like a regular club; more like a clubhouse. We still had another hour of waiting so we quickly found a table to sit and wait at. The atmosphere was like the calm before the storm, except not nearly as menacing as that sounds. Everyone in the room was minding to themselves; either carrying on in conversation with someone they knew or on their phone trying to give themselves a reason not to interact with the others in the room. It wasn’t hard to blend in because you didn’t have too. We were all friends that were just hanging out before the chaos.
The dense collective chill of the room became more present when the members of the bands we would see that night came out to socialize. I didn’t express my knowledge of knowing who they were and they werent searching for it themselves. Our meeting was neutral. As they walked by our table to go backstage, the members of the band nodded at us and we nodded at them.
“Did you see those guys? Holy s***,” my friend said while still looking at the members and their groupies walking backstage.
“Yeah damn,” I said not really playing attention. I was too focused on the inside of the Mercy  Lounge. The sun had begun to go down, all the light in the upstairs loft began to fade to black. Only the stage and bar lights illuminated the room.  I didn’t want to show my excitement because it wouldn’t affect anything at all. “Just go with it,” I kept saying to myself. “Don’t make this show, just observe.”  More and more people began to make their way upstairs. We left our table to get closer to the stage. Behind us, the now massive crowd was squirming with movement. The lights went out and I could feel the crowd take a breath, the show was about to begin.
      III
There we were, in the dark, surrounded by a s*** load of people all without a clue of what was going to happen. When were they going to start? It was already starting to get hot in the crowd, but I wanted was for the show to start. Suddenly a song came on over the speakers. The dreamy tune of “Mr. Sandman” began to play, and a girl came on dancing across the stage. He tan stockings along with her business style skirt diverged the eyes attention from her freshly shaven face. The audience loved her, as noticeable by the whistles and howls. She was having fun, and you could tell. With a tiny gasp and a gentle voice she asked how we were doing. We cheered. Good answer. She laughed, introduced our entertainment for the evening, and skipped off the stage. The band came out and we nearly lost our minds. The band went to their equipment and began to set up. Everyone went quiet, or as quiet as a crowd like that could be which wasn’t really saying much. The lead singer tested out the mic, you could hear him alright, even over the every now and then “Daddy” that came from some of the girls in the audience. The band just tried not to crack a smile. Without warning, the band came alive, cutting the crowd with an explosion of sound and madness. They had us, and we were about to show how much we loved it. Despite the name, the Mercy Lounge showed no mercy as the pit began to form. I put my elbows out, getting ready for the up and coming wave in the pit. The music didn’t stop and neither did we. We had bought the ticket, now we going down the ride head first.
The crowd went insane, it wasn’t long before people started crowd surfing. This 5’2 blonde chick next to me began pushing the much taller people around her. She wanted to mosh and she didn’t care who joined. I just went along with it. Back and forth, side to side, I would be next to my friend one moment, then next to another and then next to someone else after that. I was in a human wash machine on heavy load spin cycle. The music got faster and faster and I ended up at the very front pinned to the edge of the stage. I had lost my friend, but I wasn’t worried. From where I was I could see all the wildness of the show. I saw the tiny blonde girl who wanted to mosh head banging, and then a size ten work boot came from above and kicked her in the face. The girl went down. That’s what happens if you try. The rest of the people around her kept dancing and like a pack of gargoyles, leaning over and on the stage. The lead singer pulled out a flute and like a piper he summoned and collected his followers without blinking an eye. The wizards had gotten us, gizzards and all. I was soaked with sweat and as I looked out at the audience I could see the electric filled mist emerging from the crowd. We were all in this together, losing our minds in the whirl wind of awe and adrenaline.
     IV
The show ended with a much wanted fifth-teen minute encore. I walked out to the deck to get a breath of fresh air. It was surprisingly cool outside, which after being practically hugged by a group of one-fifty for four hours felt more than nice. I saw my friend talking to someone and quickly moved over towards him.
“Wasn’t that insane,” he yelled. I couldn’t hear s***, my ears were shot. I nodded and he just gave me a grin. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, one that he had bummed off the guy he was talking to, and handed it to me. I thank him. I began to sit down on the bench next to my friend, but before I could my friend saved my ass. “Watch out for the puke.” I looked down, and in between my friend and I was puke and an empty clear plastic beer cup. I sat on the other side of it. So there we were; my friend, everyone else on the deck, myself, and a pile of puke all just chilling out in the cool night.
“Want to head out soon? We still got a long ride back,” I asked my friend.

He looked at me with a tired “I don’t care” look. That was all I needed to proceed. We left the Mercy Lounge and after thirty minutes of turning off on the wrong exits and taking the wrong turns, we finally found refuge in Waffle House. It was late, nearly three, and being the only people in the place, we just sat there not saying a word. We didn’t need too. To try to even recount what had happened would ruin the experience. Some things and better just seen then told. We wanted to preserve what had happened, so we continued to sip our coffee in silence.