Sometimes even before it begins you know it’s going to be great. And then the only worry is what if it isn’t, because it usually never is. Metallica was different. It only got better.
We walked in at 7. The gates had opened at 3, but “you have to get there when the band starts,” Francis had said.
It was half past six and pouring. We were in a cab on the way to the show cursing the weather. Saurav had been drenched before waiting for Cradle of Filth to perform. This time he had a change of clothes with him in the car and a cover for his mobile phone.
“Just imagine those poor fuckers who got here at 3pm,” he said. “I heard the line was already a half kilometre line at 11 in the morning!” I told him.
I had been part of such a line before when Iron Maiden played at the MMRDA Grounds and for Aerosmith. The Iron Maiden wait resulted in one of the best concerts ever with an added bonus of a cameo on the Flight 666 video and possibly a 2% loss of hearing. Aerosmith was crowded and sweaty right through with a view of the stage that was almost as big a let down as the concert itself.
This time was different. Francis and Saurav had hired the car for the day and I was lucky to be around and enjoy their hospitality.
That day, everyone was a friend. Right from lunch time at Guzzlers, Francis had been high fiving and hugging random people in Metallica t-shirts. It only got friendlier. And it wasn’t just Francis being himself. “Hi, I’m Leena, by the way,” said a girl standing next to me. She declared her love for Metallica, headbanged her way through the concert, cried once and took care of me when Francis was away for a few minutes.
That day, I found out that Metallica has a surprisingly large female fan base.
I also found out that knowing the lyrics to most of the songs gives you an edge, but knowing them with certainty and refusing to sing along to Nothing Else Matters proves that you truly love the band.
I found out that phone lines get jammed during a large show. So you better coordinate with your driver otherwise you’ll be waiting at the side of the road for at least an hour later without water or food, but with thousands of others in black t-shirts humming bits of the show and re-living the best part of their evening as they walk past you in single file.
I found out that a drinking binge before the event can cause even the best prepared (with a ziplock protected mobile, change of clothes and an ID proof) to be stranded without money, looking for their friends for a large part of the evening, all for a roll (non-veg and “not even that great”).
I found out that it’s never ok to wear a John Lennon t-shirt to a Metallica show, even if it is black.
But it is ok to bring your kids along. There was a 13-year-old girl next to me singing along to Enter Sandman. Earlier in the evening, her father had head banged to Ride the Lightening.
And it doesn’t matter if you can’t see the stage because you’ll never again be in a crowd of 40,000 singing the guitar solo of Memory Remains even louder than Metallica could play it.
We walked in at 7. The gates had opened at 3, but “you have to get there when the band starts,” Francis had said.
It was half past six and pouring. We were in a cab on the way to the show cursing the weather. Saurav had been drenched before waiting for Cradle of Filth to perform. This time he had a change of clothes with him in the car and a cover for his mobile phone.
“Just imagine those poor fuckers who got here at 3pm,” he said. “I heard the line was already a half kilometre line at 11 in the morning!” I told him.
I had been part of such a line before when Iron Maiden played at the MMRDA Grounds and for Aerosmith. The Iron Maiden wait resulted in one of the best concerts ever with an added bonus of a cameo on the Flight 666 video and possibly a 2% loss of hearing. Aerosmith was crowded and sweaty right through with a view of the stage that was almost as big a let down as the concert itself.
This time was different. Francis and Saurav had hired the car for the day and I was lucky to be around and enjoy their hospitality.
That day, everyone was a friend. Right from lunch time at Guzzlers, Francis had been high fiving and hugging random people in Metallica t-shirts. It only got friendlier. And it wasn’t just Francis being himself. “Hi, I’m Leena, by the way,” said a girl standing next to me. She declared her love for Metallica, headbanged her way through the concert, cried once and took care of me when Francis was away for a few minutes.
That day, I found out that Metallica has a surprisingly large female fan base.
I also found out that knowing the lyrics to most of the songs gives you an edge, but knowing them with certainty and refusing to sing along to Nothing Else Matters proves that you truly love the band.
I found out that phone lines get jammed during a large show. So you better coordinate with your driver otherwise you’ll be waiting at the side of the road for at least an hour later without water or food, but with thousands of others in black t-shirts humming bits of the show and re-living the best part of their evening as they walk past you in single file.
I found out that a drinking binge before the event can cause even the best prepared (with a ziplock protected mobile, change of clothes and an ID proof) to be stranded without money, looking for their friends for a large part of the evening, all for a roll (non-veg and “not even that great”).
I found out that it’s never ok to wear a John Lennon t-shirt to a Metallica show, even if it is black.
But it is ok to bring your kids along. There was a 13-year-old girl next to me singing along to Enter Sandman. Earlier in the evening, her father had head banged to Ride the Lightening.
And it doesn’t matter if you can’t see the stage because you’ll never again be in a crowd of 40,000 singing the guitar solo of Memory Remains even louder than Metallica could play it.
