Green Day

I'm still alive! I survived a Green Day concert! Wow, Ms. J! What a day it was!

After driving an hour due north of Toronto, Scout and I arrived at Molson Park more than two hours before the gates officially opened. We parked our car in a giant field that could easily hold 25,000 vehicles. We were among the first thousand or so, and this meant we'd park the furthest from the gate. It also meant we'd be among the last to leave when the concert was over. I thought of my still-tender leg and foot and I regretted arriving so early. I thought of my sore back and of how tired we'd be when it was time to come home and I wished we'd arrived there two hours later. Then I thought of Meagan and her effervescent anticipation and excitement. And I kept my thoughts to myself. This was her day. I vowed not to spoil it.

As we set out across the grass, numerous people warned us that the folding chair I carried wouldn't be allowed inside the gate. Nor would the bottles of water Meagan carried. Or the camera in her purse. I decided it was too far now to return to the car, so we drank all the water our stomachs would hold and tossed the plastic bottles in a nearby trash bin. The chair was old and easily replaceable, so I left it there too. We wrapped the camera in a plastic shopping bag and tucked it into her purse.

"We're taking the camera, Scout. We'll just have to cross our fingers and hope they don't turn us away."

Meagan had a plan.

"Don't worry, Dad," she said as she skipped ahead of me two feet above the ground. "If they try to take our camera, I'll just give them my sad puppy dog eyes and beg them to let us take it in. I'll tell them it's my very first rock concert."


I was a little nervous when I saw the sign. What were they expecting? Terrorists?

After a fifteen minute walk in sweltering heat, we joined the queue that waited outside the gated chain link fence that surrounds the sprawling property. Everyone was in high spirits. Some were already noticeably higher than others and the smell of marijuana was everywhere. So were the police, although I saw no arrests. I looked around and for a long time, I felt like an anachronism: the only old guy in a sea of youthful exuberance. But I did notice one or two other dads there with their young daughters and sons in tow. The dads all wore the same sort of worried, nervous, confused expression. We nodded to each other sometimes and exchanged reassuring smiles. We fathers comprised a very tiny, but distinct minority.

Meagan and I eventually found a place to stand only fifty feet from the stage.

"This is perfect, Dad," said Meagan. "This is excellent!"

And indeed, Ms J, it was. Until the concert began.

I'll offer two words here, Ms Journal. Mosh pit.

I can't begin to tell you how horrifying it was, suddenly to find ourselves in the middle of a group of young men rushing at each other, crashing their bodies together and then rebounding toward their next human target. Sometimes, one or more would stumble (or be knocked down) and the crowd would surge forward, pushing and shoving, screaming and cheering. I held tight to Meagan's little hand there in the sweaty crush of humanity and prayed no one would be trampled or otherwise injured. How in the world could help reach us if someone were sick or injured, I wondered. What if I fell and dozens of bodies tumbled on top of me? My back was hurting, despite the $100. back support I wore surreptitiously under my t-shirt. What if I fell and re-injured my leg? What if Meagan fell? What if we were somehow separated? How would I ever find her again? Oh, Ms J! It was dreadful!! I feel tearful even now as I recall my panic. Someone knocked my glasses off and it took all my strength to stoop and recover them before they were crushed. Meagan lost one of her running shoes. She wasn't able to recover it and she spent most of the concert wearing only one shoe.

The first band was called "Anti-flag". They were a punk band. As far as I can tell, punk music is nothing less than maximum energy release in the form of music and violent dance. (i.e. "moshing") I hope to live out the remainer of my Life without ever again hearing punk music.

The second band showed some improvement. They performed their music under the bizarre name of "Jimmy Eat World." I had researched the band beforehand, and discovered at least one song that I actually enjoyed. "The Middle." Thankfully, they performed that song last night.

"Green Day" were the headliners. They appeared last.

"Let's try to get closer, Dad," Meagan begged as the stage crew prepared for the arrival of her favourite band.

The crowd was incredible. So many bodies, all jostling for a better position from which to watch their heroes on stage. The air was so hot and so humid, my glasses often steamed over rendering it all rather surreal, like as in a dream - a nervous, possibly frightening dream. I was so grateful the show was outdoors. It would have been even hotter indoors. Numerous times I found myself on the verge of panic as I struggled to breathe cool, fresh air and found none. Often I was unable even to raise my arms in the crush of bodies. But through it all, I maintained my sweaty grip on Meagan's hand. I glanced at her. She seemed a bit frightened. Or was it excitement? I couldn't tell.

"Please, Dad!" she screamed. "We have to get closer! It's my only chance to see Billie Joe! Please, Dad!!"

I took a great gulp of hot, stale air and began to squeeze forward. Forty feet from the stage. Now thirty feet. Twenty feet. Suddenly, the crowd went wild. Billie Joe Armstrong and his Green Day band entered the stage amid flashing lights and pyrotechnics. And the moshers began again as the music blared from huge towers of speakers. "American Idiot."

It was absolute bedlam, Ms J. I very nearly went down a few times. It was all I could do to remain upright and to hold onto my girl. Despite my earplugs, the sound was nearly deafening.

"HOLD ON, MEAGAN," I screamed. "LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!"

I knew she couldn't hear me. I pulled her behind me as I elbowed my way away from the stage, through a now faceless crowd. I could feel myself panicking. I was so afraid for my little girl. And for myself. I used my free arm to push people aside. I was beyond manners, beyond politeness and courtesy.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" I screamed. "GET AWAY FROM ME! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!"

The music was so loud and the crowd so frenzied, that a couple of times, people thought I was moshing and they pushed me violently this way and that. Through it all, I held tight to Meagan's wet hand and prayed we didn't get separated. After what seemed an eternity, we emerged breathless in a tiny clearing perhaps two hundred feet from the stage. I looked at Scout and she looked at me. We were both wide-eyed and gasping for breath. I held her to my chest and screamed in her ear.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, MEAGAN?"

She nodded her head numbly and bit her lip. We breathed together there for a while until the song ended. I don't think either of us had been prepared for that. I know I wasn't.

We could see the stage better from our new vantage point, though. And we were far enough from the mosh pit that I felt safe. I began to relax then and even enjoy the music. Meagan is only about five feet two and I kept crouching down to her eye level to see what she could see. There was only an ocean of heads and shoulders with an occasional glimpse of the floodlit stage. I longed to lift her on my shoulders, but my back was just too bloody sore. Luckily though, there were huge monitors suspended on either side of the stage and remote cameras offered us fabulous views of the performance.

Green Day put on an awesome show. They did all their biggest hits. They whipped the crowd into a lathered frenzy with hard-driving songs and then soothed us again with quieter ones. They played for a full two hours. My heart wanted more while my leg and my back begged to see the finale.

And the finale, Ms J! Oh, my word. What a grand finale!

Billie Joe ordered the lights extinguished - all of them - and invited the crowd to show the light from cigarette lighters and cell phones. Tens of thousands of young arms and tens of thousands of Bic lighters and cell phones swayed in unison to and fro to the strains of "Time of Your Life." I watched and listened as voices and hearts became one. In music, thousands of disparate and distinct spirits can join together as one. For me, this is the best part of any concert. It is what makes music so important to us. It's absolutely magical.

It was a good day, Ms J. A special, exciting day. A Green Day, spent with my teenage daughter.

Tickets: $115.
T-shirt: $30.
Poster: $15.

Meagan's arms around me, shaking with the release of intense emotion. Tears and eye-liner coursing down her cheeks. "Thank you so much, Daddy. This was the BEST day ever. I love you!"

Well, that's just priceless, Ms J. Priceless.


Absolutely Priceless!

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