Crue'd Memories

I used to be quite the metal head, tracking my favorite bands’ concert dates like a gambler tracks game scores. It has been quite a while since I last attended a concert, however, Sunday night I found myself at a reunion of sorts - with the band, with my nieces, and with myself.

Two of my nieces, one boyfriend, and I attended a Motley Crue concert. Back in 1989 or 90, my niece and me went together to the Dr. Feelgood tour - times were different then: I was 24 and she was 15. Hair was big but Motley Crue was even bigger.

This time around I am 39 and she is 30 - with 6-year-old twins and a husband. However, when they came out rocking with songs like Shout at the Devil, Ten Seconds to Love, and Wild Side, I was once again 17, and 21, and 24.

It was very strange to have that much of a time-gap being closed in during a 2 hour period - without the aid of a DeLorean. They were still good, although older - but so are we.

Instead of sneaking joints inside – I was sneaking Marlboros. The only time I was felt up was by the security guard at the front door checking for weapons. Our feet hurt. Our ears were ringing. It was funny and sickening all at the same time. Times have changed.

We watched and laughed at the older, and a few pounds heavier, people who thought they still looked good in their leather mini skirts rocking out on top of their seats, secretly waiting for them to fall and bust their ass. (guess I haven't changed that much.)

Whenever I saw the silhouette of hands raised against the backdrop of smoke and fire from the stage – hailing the symbol of devil-worshippers – my younger days came back to mind with fond memories of recklessness and rebellion.

Those days are gone now, but as the lights went down - flickering Bics twinkling in their place throughout the arena - and the piano intro to Home Sweet Home began, that’s exactly where I found myself: Home.

Rock On - Fuckers!