| September 25th, 2004 06:30 AM |
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| Poplar |
September 25th, 1994.
It was the last week of my first month in college, five days before my birthday. It was also the night before my first review (Review: Davidson College speak for test). I had seen my first Stones show 17 days earlier. It was a dandy at Carter Finley Stadium in Raleigh, on a Beautiful North Carolina night. I sank my second ticket on a chick - good looking, not a big Stones fan. I remember a few things; Memory Motel... people leaving the stadium quite enthused... lots of chatter to the affect of ‘man, they sounded good‘... a long drive back to campus.
The 25th was a Sunday, and I had some great, God-sent fucking seats. 9 rows back - dead center stage. This extra ticket was going to a Stones fan. He drove down from Colgate, showing true dedication. Williams Bryce stadium is intense. Very steep. We got our asses to the seats, and the tickets were better than we could have hoped. The anticipation was so sweet- the lights, the drums, and the breath of the cobra, warm against our faces.
A time warp later, Jumping Jack Flash is winding down. I look at my buddy and say; “Here come two drumsticks, so you go right and I’ll go left. The first one disappeared into the lights, headed about as far away from us as it could have. When the second one left Charlie’s hand, I knew I wasn’t going to land too far from where I was sitting. I immediately stood on my seat, giving my 6’1” another foot or so. Watching it the whole way, it just kept getting closer, until I knew I would get a stab at it. In fairness, I don’t think everyone saw it coming at first. When it finally started closing in on us I was set and ready. The only problem was that it was coming in to my left. I’m right handed, but there was no way I could reach that far across my body. It was also a little higher than I expected. At what seemed like the right moment, I committed to my left hand and made an upward, and slightly backward lunge at the stick.
It hit square across my left palm. Imagine someone simply handing you a drumstick. That’s exactly what it felt like. It didn’t hit to hard - just flush against my hand. All I had to do was clinch a fist. It worked. By the time I was drifting over the back of my seat, everyone was well aware of what was happening. The rush of people towards the stick (now firmly in my grasp) only accentuated my body’s motion - propelling me another full row behind that. Absolute slow motion. As I landed on my back, at the feat of the people in row 11, the stick was still right in my left hand. I was holding it in a clutched fist, in the dead center of the stick. I took the fall with my body, as to not jeopardize the property, and that presented a new problem. Before I could even get my right hand out of the chairs, legs and arms, I felt two hands surround my left fist. Some bastard was trying to pull it out of my hands. Some people were trying to get the guy off me. Others were afraid I was hurt, trying to get me off the ground. It was total pandemonium. I could fell the stick bending from the struggle. Ultimately - the crowd freed me. They were led by my friend , who had scaled the seats to grab my attacker from behind. He looked a bit like he was trying to separate a wrestling melee. When I got to my feat, there was a small celebration. Everyone wanted to touch it, and there were plenty of compliments for the reverse swan dive catch. Needless to say- a tremendous thrill, and a great rush.
I failed my exam on the 26th... a 56 to be exact. Math was never my strength. I went on to pass the class, and haven’t thought about math since. While scribing this little memory, I pulled out my class notes from my History and Political Science classes that long Monday. They are, in fact, reflective of a long Monday.
Such change at that point in my life. I was a College freshman, on the doorstep of things I never would have imagined for myself. 10 years ago can truly seem like 100 years ago. Even more amazing - a band had so much to do with it.
The stick sits in a shallow, dark, gold framed shadowbox above my bookcases. It’s suspended with the concert ticket and a copy of Voodoo Lounge. The sides of it are splintered from hitting Charlie’s rims. I still don’t believe it.
[Edited by Poplar]
[Edited by Poplar] |
| September 25th, 2004 04:22 PM |
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| Soldatti |
Great memories! |
| September 25th, 2004 04:51 PM |
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| Poplar |
Thanks Soldati. I'm glad I had a place to share them. I'm going to get shit faced, and listen to the show tonight. Damn, has it been that long?
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| September 25th, 2004 07:52 PM |
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| Phog |
Cool story, Poplar. Wish I'd been there with you. |
| September 25th, 2004 09:30 PM |
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| kath |
shit faced sounds good to me right now..... |
| September 25th, 2004 11:15 PM |
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| Poplar |
Sick balls Tigger! |
| September 26th, 2004 06:51 AM |
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| caro |
Cool story, Poplar! Glad to hear both the drumstick and your spine survived... |
| September 26th, 2004 07:15 AM |
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| marko |
You saw so called cannon ball show.... |
| September 26th, 2004 04:46 PM |
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| Poplar |
Cannon ball show?
Explique.
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