Earth to Me

Put’emup, Put’emup came back to Chi-town on December 6th, a week before the semester was bound to end. It was a chilly and dry Friday, and the three of us actually had to work to muster up the courage to wait outside in such freezing weather. Bundled up in hoodies, jackets, and gloves, we raced over to the venue right after class after grabbing some hot food.

Murray let me borrow one of his beanies to keep my head sort of warm, and Tegan was wearing one of those ear-flap hats, stylish as usual. I didn’t care how I looked; I was just concerned with the cold and excited for what was bound to be an incredible show. We could see our breath as we sat on the concrete and yakked about nothing, and even if my teeth were chattering, it would all be worth it.

In my concert experience, I always ended up sweating buckets. The cold would feel nice later on.

Doors were set to open at six, and at around five, a few of the Plaster Caster folks started walking around, handing out free keychains that said “Anonymous!” on it. They were among the many people who witnessed Tegan discovering her power in 2011; she moved an amp out of the way before it was set to fall on their bassist. For that very reason, Tegan and I kept our face obscured when they came around to our part of the line.

Murray asked, “What’s up with you guys?”

“Long story,” Tegan grumbled.

Plaster Caster’s drummer handed Murray a keychain while complaining about the freezing weather, and in the same area, their manager was loudly talking about their new EP, set to drop in January 2014. Shortly after that, Plaster Caster went back into the venue to finish setting up with the other bands; they were up after This Sky Abundant.

It wasn’t long before doors opened a little after six, and we all shuffled in to pee before finding a good spot in the crowd.

Everybody who had braved the winter was thankful that we were all finally defrosting, even if we were way too close to each other for comfort. We were all just trying to make sure we’d see everybody the best we could, and since the room was full of freezing teenagers, it was loud even before This Sky Abundant came on.

But the five-piece Rochester band finally walked onstage, breaking into their most-recent hit, “So, When You Die,” from their debut album that I forgot the name of. From what I had heard of them, the lyrics in their songs were sparse and the mathy music was what made them shine. They could spend ten minutes onstage repeating the same riff over and over, and it would always sound new, but when their set was done, everybody was anxious for the next band to come on.

After ten minutes of nothing but the sound of loud chatter all around us, Plaster Caster finally broke into the set. Their singer introduced themselves, and then they slammed into a few of their oldies. It was hard to remember that they were a year younger than us – if they had chosen the conventional path, they’d be freshmen in college.

They were pretty good, though; I listened to them every so often when I couldn’t decide what kind of music I was in the mood for, since they combined so many genres. Even if they took a break in the middle of their set to complain about the weather while they switched out instruments and adjusted microphones, they were pretty cool. We met up with them on tour that summer when Put’emup, Put’emup did a show down in Jacksonville; they were nice kids.

Pretty much everybody in this Chicago crowd was there to see Put’emup, Put’emup, first and foremost, so when Plaster Caster’s set was over, the anxiety was tangible.

Me and Tegan hadn’t been in the actual crowd for a Put’emup, Put’emup show since the beginning of summer in 2011, and do you remember what happened there? We both got struck with lightning and thrown into an intergalactic threat. I just thanked God that it was an indoor venue this time around.

Finally, though, Put’emup, Put’emup trotted onstage after a radio interlude of mid-2000s pop-rock hits, and they slammed through “Sell Me Out” and “Mirror” before taking a quick pause to say hello to the crowd. Everybody was moving, pushing into each other to stir up some more energy and create some heat.

“This is great,” Anthony said during the break, his breathing heavy. “Hometown show, sold out, freezing out there yet we’re all sweaty up here. Perfect way to ring in the Christmas season.”

Andy, whipping the microphone wire to pull out a bit more range, agreed. “Hell fucking yeah, it’s great. I wanna see a mosh pit – I wanna see you FUCKING KILL SOMEONE!”

Everybody screamed and went absolutely nuts, but Andy waved his hands around, his eyes wide.

“I didn’t mean that literally, don’t actually kill anybody! I was kidding!” he scrambled, laughing. “But I see some pushing and shoving down there. This is your casual reminder not to push anybody who doesn’t want your grubby hands on ‘em. Be safe! This next song’s a new one, it’s called ‘Hey World, It’s Me Again!’”

When they exploded into that song, that’s when the mosh pit happened. Tegan, Murray, and I backed away from the center of it all, since the circle was opening up a little over to our right, and through the movements, I could see people running around, mostly guys screaming lyrics at the tops of their lungs.

Most of them were in gym shorts and crewnecks for other bands, not even bothering to bundle up for the weather. I’ll admit, it was a weird sight – Put’emup, Put’emup was far from being metal. Seeing people throw punches at nobody was kind of odd, especially since it started as a circle pit and just devolved from there.

Crowd surfers were everywhere, their feet right by my head (let me tell you, it sucks to be tall around crowd surfers), and the chaos was only growing. Maybe their fanbase had changed, or maybe Tegan and I had gotten struck too early in the 2011 show to notice, but the fans could be pretty violent.

And they could also be complete dicks, as I observed when someone sharply pushed me into the pit.

I was content to just bob my head like I always did, my arm above Tegan’s head whenever someone got too close to us; Murray was shouting the lyrics just like the rest of us, off in his own little world. But out of nowhere, I felt a hand in the middle of my back, and then I was sailing to the right, into the ever-growing pit.

It was move it or lose it right from the getgo. People were stepping on my heels and getting in my face; I think I had three different people’s hair in my mouth at one point. Guys were nailing me on the arms and shoulders, and there was no way Murray was getting his beanie back – it was long gone from the second I stumbled into the circle.

I was never a runner, but I was forced to be a jogger. A random person’s hands were glued to my shoulders behind me, pushing me forward, though I couldn’t advance any further without running into the big sweaty guy in front of me.

My heart rate was through the roof. I couldn’t decide whether not I was having fun; being thrown into a place known for violence never rested well with me, so I always avoided the mosh pits at any concert I went to. After a while, the punches stopped hurting, and I was numb. My breath was frosty-warm.

Then, I tripped.

I got a little too close to the person in front of me and accidentally stepped on their heel, which threw off my balance, and God knows there’s no sympathy in a pit full of white guys. I tumbled forward and my face collided with their shoe, the sounds of music and shouting blurring around me. The pain came back – feet all over my arms, legs and back, even though I coiled myself the best I could to shield myself from the danger. My breath was getting shorter and shorter, and needless to say, I panicked, my heart about to burst out of my chest. I wanted to cry – I was already hyperventilating.

Suddenly, two hands hooked under my armpits and lifted me clear up, despite my height and weight. The air was fresh again, and the clustered sights of the pit were a few feet away from me; I was carried back into the regular crowd.

One hand moved to the small of my back, and a voice was muffled in my ear – “You okay, Osh?”

It was Murray. Sweat all over his face, he looked serious.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I assured him, “someone just pushed me in. Thanks for pulling me out!”

He grinned and said, “No problem, dude.”

His gloves were in his back pocket and mine were somewhere in my jacket, so when he grabbed my hand and pulled me back to where we were standing, his bare skin was warm. Guiding me through little openings to get to Tegan, I held on tight so I wouldn’t get lost.

Meanwhile, the song ended, and after Anthony told the pit to settle down, they went right into “Anchored (I Will, in Fact, Sink).” The crowd had its regular energy back, pushing and shoving in waves, and only halfway through the song had I realized that Murray was still holding my hand.

I could’ve let go, I guess, but I didn’t want to seem rude or anything. Plus, it wasn’t really a bother. I could still jump around and push people back, and it didn’t hinder my ability to shout the lyrics back at the band. It was nothing too serious; it was like how you’d hold someone’s hand if you were arm-wrestling with them.

And like I said, his hand was pretty warm, and my hands were usually the first thing of mine to get cold.

Tegan screamed at the top of her lungs at the end of “Anchored,” since it was her favorite song by them, and the stage went quiet. The lights dimmed down, Andy got his acoustic guitar and threw the strap over his head, and it was like everybody knew what was about to happen.

He smiled at everyone in the room and said, “This one’s called ‘Keep Around.’ Also, it’s the gayest song we’ve ever done, and we’re all very proud of that.”

A few people laughed, most of us cheered, and then he started the song.

Murray fidgeted next to me, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and I glanced over at him. He flashed me a little smile, but it faded away when he started to say something; he stopped himself.

“What were you gonna say?” I said, leaning forward so he could hear me.

He hesitated, and then he got right next to my ear. “I was gonna say you’re really warm, but then I thought it would be stupid.”

“That’s not stupid,” I snickered.

“You don’t mind me holding your hand, then?” he said sheepishly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with his free hand.

I shrugged. “It’s fine with me. You’re warmer than I am.”

I’m not sure why I agreed to that, and I’ll probably never figure it out. All I know is that when I said that, he smiled again and squeezed my hand, and then both of us turned back to the stage to see Andy sing his heart out. I felt his grip loosen, and then suddenly he had laced his fingers with mine.

And I, an utter mess in more ways than one, glowed pink for some reason. I blamed the chilly air that breezed in from the open door of the venue, the stillness that set in during the acoustic song. I was probably trying to hold in a laugh when Anthony walked onstage and finished up the song, hugging Andy tight when it was over, since I knew so much about it that nobody else did. I was scarlet, but it had nothing to do with the fact that Murray’s hand was keeping me warm.

And it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the little smile he gave me when I looked back over at him as the song ended. Nope.

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The concert ended at around eleven, and after hanging out for a few minutes near the back entrance of the venue to shake hands with a few bands and let Murray meet Put’emup, Put’emup as a whole, we scoured downtown to find the nearest burger joint. We were all starving.

It could’ve been snowing, it was so cold. The streets were bustling as usual, and there were a few other people in the McRonald’s we decided to stop at. After making the plight from my car to the warm, delicious-smelling restaurant, everything felt like the best thing in the world.

Murray peeled away at the entrance to go straight to the bathroom, leaving me and Tegan to decide what to get.

Before the door even closed behind me, Tegan gave me the biggest hip-check of my young life.

I whipped my head down to give her a funny look, demanding, “What was that for?!”

“You’re just gonna play that off like it never happened? I can’t believe it,” Tegan laughed, punching my arm.

“Play what off?” I had to know so I could react accordingly.

She shot me a look that made me feel really stupid. “Um, I don’t know, the fact that you held hands with your roommate for the whole damn show?”

“Oh my God,” I groaned, slapping my forehead. “You saw that?”

“It was kinda hard to miss, bud.”

“I…I don’t know how to explain myself. I’m sorry.” Well, at least I told the truth. I didn’t know where to begin or how to end.

She snorted again and crossed her arms. “Don’t apologize, dude. I’m not mad – why would I be mad? That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my whole life.”

I just raised an eyebrow at her, and I don’t know how she interpreted that, but I didn’t really care at the moment. I was starving and freezing with my head in a jumble; it was the last thing I wanted to worry about. She faked a punch to my face and I dodged, Murray came out of the bathroom, we ate dinner while bubbling with post-concert excitement, and we went home to sleep in on a great Saturday.