This is really long.
April 17th and 18th have been the best two days of my life. Two My Chemical Romance concerts, two mosh pits, two days off school, two days where I could forget all my shit. My troubles were meaningless. I was also ruined, physically and mentally.
On the 17th, the pit was brutal. Nothing compared to Manson, though. We got there a little late, because my dad refused to leave until 12:30, so we got into Chicago at around 4:30 - 5. We went in the doors to the Congress Theater, a beautiful old building, and to the will call to pick up our tickets that were never delivered. An extremely bored looking girl asked us for name, credit card, and purchase receipt, which we had. The tickets were in Meghan's moms name, and at first, she couldn't find them. She kept shaking her head and squinting her eyes. I could hear air whistling around my ears and I swear I was either going to sob or faint in the next few moments. Finally, she found them, made Meghan sign on the x, and gave us our tickets. My dad dragged us back outside and handed me the 100 dollars he owed me, and then we rushed back into the theater. We were checked lightly by a woman with a loud voice, who basically told us to shove some of our money down our chests so we didn't loose it in the pit. That night, I kept it all in a small, thin purse I had, and it was shoved down my outer thigh, pinned by my tights.
There was a crowd on either side of us, and another one going up and around the winding staircase in the middle of the massive room. We choose to go right at random, and smacked into our friend Teresa, who was there with her Mom and her 7 year old sister and some other people. There was no way we were staying in the back with her, so we pushed our way to the front after saying goodbye. My head was blank of everything except the fact that I needed to be up front. I needed to be able to see. Their names kept chanting in my head, over and over again. It kind of went like this; Gerard Mikey Bob Frank Ray somewhere here five feet push just push who cares what anyone says push push. I felt disjointed and strange, like a marionette puppet. There was a girl with Skeleton Crew stuff and blue and brown hair yelling for someone named Molly, and she pushed her way to the middle. People were allowing her room, so we chased after her, yelling for Molly as well, and people grudgingly allowed us room. Ingenious, I know. We got to the somewhat middle of the not-yet sweaty group. People were just milling. There were people of all colors, all ages, and there was even a girl in a wheelchair, fully decked out it The Black Parade shit. It was awesome.
The doors opened in a long, dragged out moment of silence and anticipation. The confused crowd was unsure of where to go, just ran the general direction of forward, very close to mass hysteria. It was a tangible feeling, a little like a fragrance hanging over the crowd. I followed the people in front of me, litany still chanting through my head, and Lins and Meghan followed me. Like the game shows, there were three sets of double doors. We ran to an outer exit door, bursting into the arena and fucking running for our fucking lives. T don't know if you've ever ran to the stage at a concert, but if you haven't, it's one of the best feelings in the world. You want to, you need to get to the front, but at the same time, you're just glad you're there, you've made it, and no one can take it away form you. There were about four or three rows of people in front of me, and to contain myself, I had to remind myself that I was coming tomorrow too. I was coming tomorrow. It was a nice-ish moshpit in the beginning, before the bands started. There was a little wait, and then the lights dimmed, and the amazing David Costa came out. He gives an amazing, energetic performance, with nothing held back, and the band does the same.
Drive By next. They're just as great, but the singer kept doing a peculiar thing. he would randomly go up the the mic and say 'My Chemical Romance.' and we'd all scream bloody murder. But then, he'd just go and play the next song. Maybe it was just to hear us scream, but still, it was strange. The pit still wasn't moving.
Out comes Billy fucking Talent. These guys from Canada fucking screamed and played their hearts out, and then the fucking pit started to move. It was no jumping, just animalistic pushing and swaying, but I did get to move. I lost Meghan and Lins, but that was okay. Towards the end of the set, I had moved up two people and I could see Meghan and Lins a little in front of me. They ended their set, and everyone knew that it was time. My Chem was next.
It was kind of a long wait. I didn't know if they were coming out in TBP makeup and costume like last time, but I didn't think so, because the banner behind them had the old MCR logo, the scribbly writing one. The Beatles song 'All You Need Is Love' comes on the speakers, so ironic in the situation, with people pressing up against each other and scowling, all trying to see the empty stage better than the next person. I was already tired and pissed and squished, and the song only made it half way through. The lights went off, the crowd started to scream, and Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, and Bob Bryar came on the stage, 3-D replicas of what I saw every day. They were so real, so there, it was unbelievable.
They started with 'This Is How I Disappear' and the place exploded. I started to sob, unbelieving that thy WERE RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF ME. Less than five feet away, because I had moved up to right behind two short girls, so I could see it all. Ray, in a strange, unintentional homage to Slash, had his hair in front of his face and rarely looked up, concentrating on what he was playing. He had on no ring. Bob was on a stand, up above everyone else and looking fucking sexy, with his mountain man hair and striped socks. Mikey had on his 'Mikey Fucking Way' shirt, and looked condescending and scared and beautiful, like a fairy tale come true. Gerard was... indescribable. He looked EXACTLY like he did during TCFSR era, as if he never cut his hair. he didn't have any make-up on, and he had a jean jacket and black pants on. He was so fucking unreal. I couldn't believe he was there. I couldn't. There was a giant rip in his crotch, and very little was left to the imagination. Frank had on non descriptor clothes and his hair was just the same too, and he was playing his heart out as usual, looking beautiful already. They were all indescribably unreal, beautiful, and they were all right in front of my face.
They just played and played and played. The girl in front of me had a lot of fucking hairspray in, and her hair kept flying my mouth, so I had hairspray taste all night. I could fucking punched her. by the last song, Helena, I began to cry and feel like I was going to faint. I almost let myself get pushed out of the pit, but then I just looked up, stared and stuck it out. They ended, they left. I was so unsure, so lightheaded, that I just found Meghan and Lins and left.
Down at the March stand, I bought a Mikey Fucking Way shirt, a MCR bag, MCR gloves, and a David Costa shirt. I met David, who is the nicest fucking guy EVER. He told me to come back tomorrow and say hi.
We left, only to come back the next day, and to make sure it was ten times fucking better.
The second journal is better.
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