Asthmatic Crowd Surfing
Like most, anything interesting that has ever happened to me was a complete accident or, at the very least, unforeseen.
Like crowd surfing, for example. If I told you I've crowd surfed before, would you believe me? If not, I completely understand. I'm not typically the type to demand hundreds of hands upon me while owning the spotlight. If you would believe me, I'd be interested in knowing why. It is true, however, that I've crowd surfed. It's a weird story. Just about all of my stories are eccentric at best.
When I was 13, I attended my first live show at the infamous SOMA in San Diego, CA. SOMA was basically the place where everyone around San Diego would come to see their favorite metal, rock, alternative, and even Indie bands play live. Hipsters, scene/emo kids, militrash, and general grunge folks alike could be seen hanging around this wonderful venue every weekend. It's a cultural relic to this day. If you're not into the live music sort of thing, you could always get to know the neighborhood I grew up in by watching Lords of Dogtown (starring Heath Ledger and Emile Hirsch) which comes closest to accurately depicting my cultural upbringing. In case you were curious.
The Friday night I attended my first show, I was adorned by a lovely neon tutu over my zebra print skinny jeans, a Gir (from Invader Zim) shirt that was a size too big for me, makeup which wasn't too far off from Gene Simmons' classic get-up, and hair that stood up in what was called a "wing" in the scene days (basically a layer of hair that resembled a Philippine Eagle's crest). I thought I was the coolest 13-year-old in all the land. Maybe I was to some. More than that, though, I was a gutsy little thing in some ways.
See, when I reached the doors of the venue, the only thing on my mind was how excited I was to be there breathing the same air as my favorite band at the time--Scary Kids Scaring Kids (SKSK). Walking into that hall, the Side Stage, I could feel the music vibrate up through my feet and engulf my entire body. It was loud, but aren't most spiritual things either figuratively or literally quite loud?
13 year old little baby scene queen with her iconic cupcake and unintentional Gene Simmons lookalike makeup.
If you've never heard of a mosh pit, it's basically consensual punching, shoving, and kicking. I've seen some people get seriously injured in the pit, and I'd heard plenty of horror stories prior to attending my first live show. However, I saw it more as an opportunity to let off some steam and prove that I wasn't just any little baby 13 year old--despite being called "cute little baby scene queen" some time that night by a very sweet and flamboyant guy (which made me blush). With my best friend at the time, Kaitlyn, by my side, we jumped right in and started flailing like a couple of apes. The image is quite funny to me now. We were just kids in a crowd of young boys and men kicking and shoving. However, the nice thing about SOMA is that, typically, if someone fell down in the pit, a small circle would form around that person until they got back up. A very aggressive yet considerate community of angsties on legs.
If you hadn't heard of a mosh pit before, wait until you hear about the "wall of death."
I got caught up in the hype before I realized the crowd around me was separating into what would be the wall of death. At first, I panicked. But then, however, I grew excited. I went into "fuck it" mode and pulled my friend Kaitlyn to join one side with me who, if I remember correctly, was terrified but went with it. She was always such a good sport.
On the count of 3--1... 2... 3! I raced toward the center, at full force, with all these grown boys and men surrounding me and I think the most that happened was that I got a punch to the ear which left not a single bruise. Still yet, something about the experience was very uplifting and left me feeling very much "alive." I went back to middle school the following Monday and was a little braggy about it. Only Kaitlyn and I could share that excitement over what we had done, however. We're lucky we came out completely uninjured with the exception of our lost voices from all the screaming and singing.
To the crowd surfing.
A few months later, that summer before I started high school, Kaitlyn's older brother, Kota (16 or 17 at the time), had come to visit from New Mexico. We made an event out of it, then, by going to SOMA again to show him how we do in San Diego. It was big boy Kota and us three little girls--Kaitlyn (14), Meri (14), and myself (13). Kota really was big. It was just a fact. He was at an unfair disadvantage when it came to enjoying the show to his standards because he stuck around us short little girls throughout most of the night. What he really wanted to do was go to the front where all the other tall, beefy, shirtless and sweaty dudes would hang around because they could reach the stage and shout obscenities at the bands.
He grew restless throughout the night until we all finally gave in and decided, as a group, that we would go and stick together. So there we went, like ducklings following the big Kota, into the push pit of giants. I remember feeling squished, and the shoes I wore that night were not meant to be stepped all over by grown men who would leave blisters on my toes to be discovered the following morning. All around me was yelling and sweaty muscles and armpits--basically a cesspool of testosterone-induced aggression.
Meri (left) and I (right) at around 15 years old.
It took years for me to realize that I was having my first asthma attack that night. In fact, I didn't even know I had asthma until not even a year ago. Yet, there I was, squished among all these grown men. To my left were my two best friends looking displeased with the whole situation. We couldn't even see the stage or anything but at least Kota was enjoying himself. The pushing and shoving became too much, along with the suffocating sweat in the air, and I grew dizzy until I lost most of my consciousness. I can still hear Kaitlyn's scream in my head as she realized what was happening.
And then I crowd surfed.
I was lifted out of the small hole I was in, and hundreds of hands teleported my limp body to the edge of the crowd where someone was kind enough to lay me against the wall. Because I wasn't completely unconscious, I still remember a handsome smiling face looking up at me because, even while almost totally passed out, my hormonal self couldn't ignore a handsome face.
So there I was, though, sitting against a wall, as it's been described to me, when Kota, Kaitlyn, and Meri came running back around the side of the crowd. Kota picked me up in his arms, arms and legs dangling, and raced me outside while calling for help. Meri's mother, who was to pick me up that night, jumped out of her car and came running toward us in disbelief. A security guard followed us out only to have us come back in so that I could be taken to the medic's room. Kota passed me over to the security guard who promptly brought me to the back and laid me down on a cot. By then, I was beginning to gain consciousness again, and I remember how gentle the medic was with me as he poured a bottle of cold water over my forehead and talked me through it.
"See, she's waking up already," he said, pleased.
In came some beefy military dude wearing a "Bullet for my Valentine" shirt huffing furiously at his arm injury when the medic said to me, "See, you're handling this much better than that guy, and look at him."
"Shut the fuck up!" said Beefy Man.
I sucked my teeth and stifled a laugh, still breathing faintly as I continued to recover.
The water he poured on my head washed my purple hair dye into my brand new white "Sky Eats Airplane" shirt that I had bought that night. That purple dye never did wash out. It was the best souvenir I could have asked for because of the memories it brought whenever I looked at it. Too bad I no longer have it.
15 years old. That skunk spirit hood looked so cool when I would enter the pit.
I look back at all of these memories with nothing but fondness. I was a little shit kid with not a care in the world (outside of my abuses) except living to the fullest. I grew up poor as shit, but whatever money I did have I made sure to spend on experiences or food--and food is arguably an experience when you're poor. I also never did drugs or drank alcohol. Not even a single weed have I ever injected (Disclaimer: I support the weed injections just not on me). What is drug?
As for Kaitlyn, I reached out to her for the first time in a long time today. I could still talk to her like nothing had even changed between us. The only difference is we now have the emotional capacity to process what we had been through as kids. She now has two gorgeous children of her own and I'm so proud of the person she's become. Because of that, I'll quote something she said today that stood out to me:
"I make jokes that I have had a full life before I came to Texas. Which is true."
We did live full lives--both of us separately. Now we're so disconnected from what used to be our lives. I know I've mentioned it before in a previous post, but it continues to blow my mind to this day. I don't know where I'm going from here, but I know where I've been and I hope who I am and who I will become would blow gutsy 13-year-old me away. Life continues to happen on accident, and I will continue to embrace it for all its absurdities.
Song: "Faces" by Scary Kids Scaring Kids.
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