So, I thought I was done with writing for a while but, sometimes, things happen that absolutely need to be written down. This is one of those stories…

It took a very long time for me to find a moment to put this on paper but, earlier in 2009, the boys all got together and decided to surprise our buddy Kris with the best present possible: tickets to see AC/DC – his favorite band of all time! Kris lives and breathes rock n’ roll, so getting to see these guys play is a once in a lifetime opportunity; almost like our previous generation seeing the Beatles or something. The simple fact that AC/DC is still touring, much less coming to Atlantic Canada, meant that we had to go! So, we all secretly bought tickets on the day they went on sale… Brian, Joel, Chris and myself. We each bought a ticket and split the cost of a 5th to give to Kris on his 26th birthday. I know what you’re thinking, and yes… we really are the best friends ever!

At that time, it was still months to go until the concert, and Kris’ birthday, so it never fully sunk in. For that same reason, we never made any real plans. That persisted and, up until the day we left for Moncton, New Brunswick (where the concert was being held), we had NO idea how we were getting there, where we were staying, or really any general idea what was in store for us. It was very strange. As big of a deal as this concert was surely going to be, none of us were really all that excited in the time leading up to it. Not yet, anyways…

The concert ended up being held on a Thursday night, so I booked that entire week off work and got prepared to party hard in Halifax, then Moncton and then Halifax again. Chris, who ended up getting the nod as sober driver to Halifax, called me on Wednesday night at around 6:00pm and told me to pack a bag and get ready. Instead of leaving Thursday morning he had decided, at the last minute, to spend the night with Kris and Joel in the city. They both lived up there and Brian was going to just meet us in Moncton since he was working a job not far from there, anyways.

So, Chris popped by to get me shortly afterwards and dropped off about $1000 worth of his carpentry tools inside my apartment. He had them all stored in his trunk and wanted to make room for luggage and, of course, for beer (I know… this seems totally irrelevant, but it is important later on in the story). With that, we hit the road towards our first stop on our journey: Halifax!

I picked up my normal case of beer and sipped (ya right) on road rockets during the 3 hour road trip. As per usual, I spent the trip drinking and then dangerously refilling beer bottles. For some strange reason, though, drinking one beer does not equate to pissing out one beer, as you might think… it just so happens to be just slightly more out then in, which makes for some potentially messy situations. Luckily, with my extensive experience, I’m usually quite good at it! That is, until I run out of empty beer bottles and need to get creative…

What happened on this particular trip really should never be spoken of. Unfortunately for us, though… it is hilarious and completely disgusting! Due to thorough and detailed market research, I have come to learn that my readers not only enjoy these types of stories but have come to expect them from me… and I am certainly not one to disappoint my fans! With that being said, what happened next is something both Chris and I will never, ever forget…

We were about ¾ of the way done the drive and I was about the same distance through my case of brews. We had stopped for coffees a while back and, for some reason, I had got one for myself. Immediately after, I realized that I didn’t want or need a coffee, so I was stuck with a full cup just sitting there being useless. I was getting further into my box of beer, so they were starting to go down slower and come out quicker. I ended up in a predicament with a full bladder and no empty bottles.

According to Chris, we were “making great time” so I really didn’t want to interrupt. After looking around for a solution, I noticed my useless coffee sitting in the cup holder taking up space. Perfect! I grabbed it and, keeping the lid on it (apparently, this is crucial), I poured it out the window as we drove. It was a bit smaller in size then a beer bottle, but it should give me the relief that I was desperate for! As I removed the plastic lid to do my “business”, I accidently dropped it on the floor. I used the L.E.D. miner’s light strapped to my forehead (long story) to try and locate it, but came up empty handed. No biggie, I thought, as I proceeded to fill the large coffee cup right to the brim with urine.

Once I pinched off and returned to the reality that a mostly empty bladder allows, I began to ponder exactly what I was going to do with this uncovered cup of piss. I searched again for the lid, but it was lost amongst years of litter and random items on the floor of Chris’ mid 90’s Volkswagen Golf. The poor car was falling apart at the seams and had tons of ingenious backyard engineering holding it together. He basically lived out of the car when he was working and it definitely wasn’t the type of vehicle that you spend any time or effort keeping clean. It was a true beater, through and through, but it was a damn reliable little car!

Anyhow, back to my predicament… with no lid I had only one option, in my opinion: I had to roll the window down fully and launch the liquid out of the cup in one quick and precise movement. I lined up my task and got focused, knowing full well the consequences of a failed attempt.

At the very last second, just before I passed the point of no return, Chris reached over and grabbed my arm. “Hey man” he said, “Don’t just chuck it out like that. I don’t want it all down the side of my car. I mean, look… we’re doin like a buck forty, it’s just gonna cover the outside.”

It’s his car, I was drunk and not in the best state to make focused and important decisions, so I held back. “Ok man, it’s your call. What should I do then?”

“Well” he thought about it for a sec, “just hold it out the window all the way first, and then pour it out.”

The sober part of my mind screamed out at me. Don’t do it, Dan! You know the physics of this… I know you do! This is NOT a good plan. Don’t. Do. It.

Of course, these screams were muffled by about 9 beers in the previous 2 hours and went unheeded. Sober Chris knew what he was doing – I don’t need to worry myself about the details, right? Right.

I confidently extended my arm, uncovered piss cup in hand, and thrust it out of the window and into the 140 km/h winds. As soon as it crossed the threshold I immediately regretted my decision… but it was already too late.

In an instant our world was shattered. Before my mind could even process what was happening, the worst case scenario played out. The force of the wind over the top of the flimsy paper cup caused every last drop of the contents to be sucked out and into the airstream. That same airstream then pulled it all back into the cabin, every last drop, and showered us both from head to toe! It covered the dash, our bags in the back seat, the whole interior and, worst of all… the two shocked occupants. I could feel the warm liquid running down my forehead and into my eyes, and large drops falling from the tip of my nose. It was all over my lips and even inside my mouth. I turned to Chris and saw the same look of disgust mirrored on his equally soaked face.

I expected anger, at the very least. Hell, even I was a bit peeved and I never get mad. But the first words that Chris spoke are ones that I will never forget.

Without even turning his eyes from the road, slowing down or changing course, he just stated one phrase, calmly and sternly… “We don’t ever tell anyone about this!!”

I lost it!

We were covered in piss. My piss! But I agreed 100%. What happened here should never leave this vehicle! It’s a take-to-the-grave moment if ever there was one. I mean, I’m sitting there wiping pee out of my eyes and tasting the sour taste of it in my fucking mouth… no one needs to know this. Absolutely no one!

So, of course, I immediately picked up my cell phone to text the whole gruesome story to Brian, Kris and Joel haha. I looked over at Chris who was driving but also tapping away on his iPhone.

“You telling people, too?” I asked, laughing.

“Oh yea man” he smiled back, “I’m tellin everyone! I gotta. That was fucking hilarious!”

He took it well! Better than anyone could be expected to in such a situation. He just politely asked that I use one on MY t-shirts to mop up the dash and our faces and we continued on our way without missing a beat. I doubt anyone other than the two of us will ever fully understand exactly how badly that went or appreciate how funny it was, but yes… that actually happened. Unfortunately.

The rest of the drive was pretty normal, all things considered. By the time we finally arrived in Halifax it was getting dark and we were both more than ready to see everyone, get cleaned up and get a little drunk (more drunk in my case).

We pulled into the Park Victoria apartment building where Kris was living at the time with his little bro, Mason. They lived on the 14th floor (the 13th really, but those don’t exist for stupid superstitious reasons or something. Don’t even get me started on that bullshit…) and we had developed a simple system for getting into the parking garage. Kris would drop his keys off the patio, 14 (13?) floors up, and we would retrieve them and use them to access the basement parking garage. Easy, right? Well, it was darker than normal this time and, aside from hearing them crash down into nearby bushes, we had no fucking clue where they had landed. We searched for a good 15 minutes and even got Kris, Joel and Mason to come downstairs and help… but to no avail. The only set of keys was now lost. This trip just kept getting better and better. It definitely wasn’t helping to get us psyched up for the concert. Not at all.

We eventually managed to sneak inside and park Chris’ Golf on the lower floor of the “secure” parking garage in the far corner, in hopes of avoiding a ticket (fuck paying for parking!). We then finally retired to the apartment for beers and to catch up with our good friends.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful, as far as our parties usually go. I don’t even think we made it out to the bars. Besides losing the only set of apartment keys off the 14th story balcony, getting piss covered from head to toe and having a late night of smoke and beers it was pretty much a normal night. But, that didn’t make the morning any less fucking rough…

I passed out in my signature fashion – somewhere on the bare floor in the freezing cold living room, Joel crashed hard on the couch, Chris took some of the couch cushions and constructed a make-shift bed and Kris… well, Kris got his comfy bed all to himself. Fucker. Needless to say, we were a hard looking crew come morning time.

Once everyone was up and mostly mobile we hopped into Joel’s ’97 Civic sedan and began the next leg of our journey. Joel graciously accepted the duty of sober driver for the 2nd part of the trip, God bless him. Halifax to Moncton is about 4 hours in good traffic but, with what seemed like 90% of Nova Scotia migrating to Moncton for the concert, it was sure to be a slow trek this day. On the bright side, though, it was an absolutely beautiful, warm, sunny summer day and it was finally starting to settle on our minds… we were actually on our way to see one of the best rock bands of all time!

Before we hit the open road we had to make a few stops in Fall River, where Joel lives. Apparently, unknown to any of us at the time, Joel had a few tricks up his sleeve all along. We all assumed that there were no plans for lodging, parking, or anything not involving getting drunk and rockin the fuck out. Joel, however, being the mastermind behind most of this trip, had gone behind our backs and done some secret planning himself. What he came up with was a MacGiver-esque plan that just reeked of potential disaster – but if we succeeded, we would become legends in the eyes of our peers… great odds for any Meathead!

As it turned out, one of Joel’s coworkers was already at the concert and booked into a HUGE campground only a 10-15 minute walk from the concert gates. This campground, being that almost 100,000 people were attending the concert, was a hot commodity and far from cheap accommodations! I believe it was $60 for a car permit, and then $50 per person just to enter the site. That equates to $310 just for our car load (once we picked up Brian, of course), and was certainly not a price that any of us were willing to pay.

So why am I mentioning this, then? Well, Joel’s “inside source” had called us and was about to help us put our super-secret plans into motion.

Joel’s simple instructions were as follows: Buy a sheet of neon yellow bristol board, clear tape, scissors, fine tipped permanent black markers and a black pen. We were then to meet our insider just down the road from the campground in the MacDonalds parking lot where we would receive further instructions.

Sounds easy enough! So, we stopped in Fall River to get a case of beer for myself, a 40oz bottle of rum for Chris and Kris in the backseat (I hear that’s where the party was at?) and the above stated craft supplies. All of which (the craft supplies only, obviously) were picked up at the local dollar store for under $5 total! While we were there, though, the backseat partiers splurged and bought themselves a couple of plastic apple shaped children’s sippy cups. Along with Kris already going rockstar topless, it was a perfectly fashionable and safe way to mix their rum on the drive ahead, and a great excuse to invent and show off a 2 person “fruit salute” for the remainder of the day… to every, single vehicle we passed along the way!

With that we finally took to the highway and our next stop would be Moncton, New Brunswick aka. HELLLL! It was only then, for me anyways, that it really started to sink in. We were at the beginning of an event that all of us will surely remember until the end of our days. For me, it was my very first real concert. The rest of my friends had been to many, but none of those concerts could really compare to the legends of rock that were about to destroy our ear drums in just a matter of hours! It was time to get psyched up and I could literally feel the excitement creeping over my whole body. I was a mix of nerves, adrenaline, alcohol and nicotine, with absolutely no idea what to expect. I left what little cares and inhibitions I had back home in little old Yarmouth and this night was going to be a night of sexy women, drugs and hardcore fucking rock n’ roll! At this particular time in my life, that was exactly what I needed. Bring it the fuck on!!

It was a perfect day for a road trip. The drinks were flowing freely, the sun was shining bright and the satellite radio was pounding with rock tunes to get us into the right mindset. Everyone has those days when you just don’t feel like having a beer but, as soon as the first one hits your lips, it goes down quicker than a fat chick at a prom party. Before you know it, you’re half a case deep, your blood is warmer and your wits are sharp. The four of us were singing along to the hard rock radio station – warming up our vocal cords for a night of screaming and then quickly soothing them with our weapons of choice: Captain Morgan Spiced Rum in sippy cups for the boys in the backseat, and my usual Budweiser life-tonic up front.

The closer we got to Moncton the more belligerent we got and the slower and more packed the highways became. By the time we crossed the Nova Scotia-New Brunswick border, still a good half hour from Moncton under normal driving conditions, we ground to a complete halt. The two lane Trans Canada highway was grid locked for miles! You would not believe the lineup of vehicles, all of them, people young and old, anxious to have their faces melted and ear drums punched by the original hard rock bad boys. Every car we passed was throwing up the devil horns and giving us rock-on respect for our loud tunes and blatant disregard for open liquor laws. These were our people! With the windows cracked wide to let in the fresh late summer air, all you could hear was the sounds of AC/DC being cranked from bus loads of partiers or cars full of men, women and teens all brought together by our shared passion! There would be no road rage involved in today’s traffic jam… this was a 10km/h rolling party, thousands strong, that you had to see to truly believe!

The extremely slow pace allowed us to easily and frequently stop for piss breaks and, in my case, to grab fresh beers from the trunk – the whole time being serenaded by the car horns of slow paced passersby. If we weren’t psyched before, there was no denying it now! We were ready. It was the final leg of our journey. Sure, lots had happened thus far, but none of us had any idea just how many more epic stories would stem from the next 18 hours of our lives. Even with the bumper-to-bumper traffic, it seems like no time later that we pulled off the packed highway and into the heart of Moncton; a small city that had been temporarily transformed into a buzzing hot bed of booze, drugs, and rockers of literally every shape and size.

Following the immense crowd of cars we eventually ended up at the MacDonalds restaurant parking lot, just down the road from the expensive campground, where we were to meet up with our “insider” for more details. The moons must have aligned for us somewhere around this point in the day… or maybe the Rock Gods were watching out for us (or just too damn busy with the hundreds of thousands of other rock tards surrounding us to bother). Either way, things fell into place in a way that almost makes me believe in a higher power. As if someone was watching out for us and wanted this day to be perfect for Kris, Joel, Brian, Chris and myself. From the lives we all have lived, and were living at the time, no one deserved to let loose and rock the fuck out more than our group of new age Meatheads; and rock the fuck out, we shall!

Like I said, almost supernaturally, all at once we met up with Drew, our insider, and Brian, our 5th ticket holder. Magic took place in that grungy parking lot, I swear. Brian rolled up confidently on his Suzuki 750 and, now that we were finally a complete group, it was time that we began to discuss the intricate details of our money-saving scheme.

Remember those supplies that we were instructed to bring? Yellow bristol board, markers, tape, etc. This is where it all starts to make sense. Joel’s coworker and buddy Drew had just covered the 10 minute walk down from the campground, beer in hand and parking pass in pocket. He had left his vehicle parked at his camp site and, in an act of pure genius, he handed his vehicle pass to Joel. $60 off, right there. Fuck paying for parking! So, that would get our car into the park for free, but we would still be out $50 a person for access. For bracelets – neon yellow bracelets. I’m sure you can see where this is going… our cunning plan was to fabricate our own!

Drew had his legitimate $50 bracelet on his wrist and, right there in the middle of the MacDonalds parking lot on the trunk of Joel’s Civic, we began our drunken craft time! Joel cut 5 strips of yellow paper (that amazingly matched the color of the legit bracelet perfectly!) about 1” by 8” in size. Kris got nominated to do the precision artwork. Starting with a black pen outline, and Drew’s wrist band as a template, Kris began to duplicate the details of the real deal. There was a large black AC/DC on one side and some written details about the campground on the other; nothing complicated or at all hard to forge! Once the outlines were filled in with black marker and the forgeries complete, we each crumpled up our fake bracelets to give them some character and a more legitimate “worn out” look.

What we were left with were 5 nearly exact replicas of Drew’s campground wrist strap! Once they were securely taped around our arms it was pretty much impossible to tell it apart from a real bracelet, outside of very close scrutiny. It was a plan so brilliant that none of us could stop laughing or showing them off to each other. I remember that all I could think to myself was: Oh my God, this is actually going to fucking work!!

Running on an adrenaline high from the pending caper, and in the midst of already finishing the very last beer of my case, I decided to go have a look around the crowded parking lot. Brian, Chris and I headed towards the large R.V. that had just pulled into the lot. It seemed like a perfectly sociable place to start.

It looked to be a group of younger people, probably in their early twenties. The two dark haired, green eyed girls standing by the door of the big luxury camper van caught our eyes. We strutted up, beers in hand, and coolly introduced ourselves. When you are this pumped up, drunk and not giving a fuck, sometimes the words that come out of your mouth just fucking work. I had no real intention of picking up on this trip (it’s just not my thing), but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to flirt myself retarded, anyways. I mean, when in Rome, right?

I opened with cheesy comments about their beautiful emerald eyes, or something equally stupid. Hell, I think I even flat out compared them to my buddy Brian’s legendary baby blues. But, they loved it! Before I knew it, all 5 guys were swarming, Chris especially. Turns out the girls were a pair of identical Croatian twins, travelling in the R.V. with their friends, coming over from Prince Edward Island for the big concert.

Like I said, the moons were aligned and, before we left 10 minutes later, Chris had both their cell numbers, had them both added to his Facebook (those damn iPhones are fucking incredible machines…) and I had done one better: I had each of the girls (identical twin sisters remember) write their email addresses in huge letters down the entire lengths of my arms; one on each side, in permanent black marker. I had no intention of ever talking to them again, honestly, but it was a great conversation starter for later and sorta looked like badass tattoos from far… ok, from really far. We were off to an amazing start! Especially considering that we still weren’t at the concert or even the campground yet.

But, it was finally time… time to hit the campground and put our extraordinary plans into motion. We had our $310 worth of counterfeit bracelets on, our stolen parking permit in plain view on the dash, and we all went into this moment with extremely high hopes, riding on a wave of alcoholic haze and the buzz of potential catastrophe if caught. Brian had parked his bike at a paid parking lot by MacDonalds (he paid for parking, fuck!) and was now with us in the Civic, ready to rip it up. Joel was still sober driving and just itching to get into the bottle with us. The rest of us, Chris, Kris and myself, filled out the remainder of the seats with or sloppy, drunken selves. We drove through the campground gates and got in line with countless other vehicles.

As the line inched slowly forward, our collective anxiety grew exponentially. Now, only two cars ahead, we saw the burly, bald, goatee’d security guard checking everyone’s credentials. Shit, he definitely looked like the thorough type. I was getting slightly worried, despite our previous confidence.

“Ok guys,” Joel broke the silence from the driver’s seat, with an obvious rattle of nerves in his voice. “This is it. Be calm.”

Chris piped up from the back seat, “Hey, turn the music up a bit and everyone just keep your arms moving as much as possible, but show him your bracelet really quickly if he asks.”

We all agreed and proceeded to rock out to the tunes. We were rocking the air guitar, drumming on the dash, pumping our fits, whooping it up and generally just acting like people going to a rock concert, but being extra careful to keep our arms from sitting stationary. As good as the fakes were, we didn’t want to risk a long and settled look at them, especially from this big dude’s trained eyes.

We pulled up to the security checkpoint, with everyone still following our deception plan. Joel pointed out his parking pass and explained that we already had a tent site, but had just left for a bit to grab some food. The security guard then leaned down and, sticking his head practically inside the car, checked each and every one of our bracelets. It was a tense moment that felt like a lifetime, but we passed with flying colors! The guard smiled (I assume that was his version of a smile, anyways) and waved us along. Fuck yea! We fucking rock!

We weren’t out of the woods yet, though. About 100 feet further up the tent lined gravel road there was a junction with yet another security guard. No words were spoken in our vehicle, but we all knew to stick with the previous plans. As we crept up towards the second check point, Joel was eyeing up our two options: left or right.

To our left we could see a DJ booth pumping AC/DC, multiple small food vendors and large speakers surrounding a wide opening in a trampled field. Tents, vehicles and porta-potties all formed the perimeter. Parked to one side of this opening there was a badass looking flat black school bus with huge bloody horns on the front, a gigantic red lightning bolt painted down the side, a generator and speakers mounted on the roof and rowdy people crowded all around. Siiick! To our right was a huge field tightly packed with tents and various styles of camper vans.

Our decision was an easy one. When the second security guard popped his head into the car, checked our bracelets and park pass, and asked us where we were heading, I knew exactly what Joel would answer.

With no group discussion needed, Joel simply pointed to the left and said, “Our tent is over that way!”

The guard waved us through without another question. He had glanced at each of our bracelets, from no more than a few feet away, and saw absolutely nothing out of place. We had done a kick ass job on our dollar store forgeries and we were now successfully inside the expensive campsite! A total cost of less than one dollar each (yes, you read that correctly) and we had a place to stay and, by the look of things, a perfect place to rock out and party all night!

We took the road to the left and immediately started to look for a place to setup shop. There was no visible road or access leading into the party field, but we knew that we definitely needed to be close to this area. Joel stopped in the middle of the dirt road and I could tell he was eyeing up the shallow ditch and doing mental calculations of his vehicles dimensions and clearances.

He glanced over at me, riding shotgun with a much clearer view of the obstacle. “What do you think, buddy? Can I get over that?”

As his best friend and trusted backyard mechanic he knew that he could expect an honest, car-respecting answer from me.

“Fuck yea, man!” I replied. “You can clear that no problem at all.”

It was just a small dip and some tall grass, but with our amazing luck so far there was no doubt in my mind that we’d make it. Joel agreed and turned the vehicle toward the party field. We were just about to hit the ditch when he stopped short.

“Shit” Joel said, with a look of defeat on his face.

We were now parked at about 45 degrees to the road and nose down into the small ditch. I couldn’t figure out why we had stopped, as we certainly weren’t stuck. We hadn’t even made contact with anything. What the fuck, Joel? That’s when I leaned forward and saw what he was looking at through his driver’s side window. Another fucking security guard!

This time the guard was standing beside the road, about 30 feet away from us, monitoring the party field and general traffic. Joel, our driver, was locked in a staring contest with him, already fully committed to this illegal maneuver. We were fucked, for sure. Any trouble would surely follow with our credentials being checked thoroughly and us being kicked out before we even got all the way in. We’d then be drunk and homeless for the night… our luck had finally run out. Fuck.

Joel sheepishly pointed towards the field where we wanted to be and kind of shrugged, as if to say “Can you just let us pass? Pretty please??”

What happened next confirmed my previous thoughts. The hardened security guard slowly and calmly raised his hands… and covered his damn eyes. The moons really had aligned for us! Our 5 person crew of the nicest assholes you’ll ever meet really was getting a free pass this day.

We didn’t wait around for him to change his mind. Joel jammed the Civic back into first gear and plowed through the tall grass and into the party beaten field. Fuck, we’re awesome! We proceeded to park the car smack dab in the middle of the action. Not 50 feet from the main DJ booth and right next to the flat black party bus from hell. We had finally made it!

We wasted no time getting situated and further into our respective bottles. I was already out of beer but, between everyone else, they had me covered well enough. True friends! Before the car even came to a complete stop, Brian and Joel had joined Kris in his shirtless rock style and were now screaming along to T.N.T., the perfect song that was being played by the DJ as we rolled up. The next few hours of our lives would be spent crowded around the trunk of Joel’s car, drowning ourselves with liquor, devil horns thrown high in the air, screaming every word to AC/DC songs and basically just sharing the moment we had all been waiting for.

Though the main event of the concert was still hours away and the party was really only starting for us, it had been going on all week for many of the people at the campground. Apparently, the very spot that we were parked had been the site of a huge dance party the night before – allegedly over 10,000 people strong! The crowd was thinning out now, though, as the opening acts were already playing over at the concert site. We had no real desire to see small time bands at this point (mostly we needed to give Joel and Brian time to catch up), so we remained behind in the party field.

As we stood there, not giving a fuck, many fellow partiers stopped by to introduce themselves and share a drink or two. There’s just something about rock n’ roll, booze and a big field that makes people social. I was already getting a bit blurry, but I still remember quite a few people that we met this day. People who became our best friends for the short time they spent with us; who just seamlessly became part of our group and then, just as quickly, disappeared back into the crowds.

For instance, there was Hilary – or Silly Hilly, as she was very quickly renamed. A super cute chick in her early 20’s, I’d guess. She came over all by herself, wearing an old school AC/DC t-shirt cut up into a revealing tank top, and smiled and rocked her way into our hearts. For the 20 minutes she stood there with us, it was like she had grown up with us all and was just a fellow Meathead, there to share the moment. As cute as she was, we were all so focused on the music, the booze and our group of best friends that she basically just fell by the wayside. I think this must have made her more comfortable, not being the center of attention, because she stuck around for quite a while.

But eventually, like all the rest, she was dragged back into the faceless crowd and nearly completely forgotten. If not for the pictures we got as a group, I doubt she would have ever crossed our minds again. It was just an endless parade of strangers. Some stopping only to cheers their drinks, some to help us rock the chorus, some just yelled from afar or held their hands or drinks high in salute. We were rocking hard and getting respect for it. These were definitely our people!

Another visitor that we’ll never forget wandered by shortly after. As soon as I saw him stumbling our way, I burst into laughter and immediately brought him to everyone’s attention. Once we had him in our sites there was no way he was going to pass by without getting in a few group pictures and sharing a drink with us. No way! What made this stranger so special, you ask? Well this genius was wearing a full body Yogi Bear costume, waddling around by himself, holding a large, ratty cardboard sign that said 4 simple, beautiful words: “Show Yogi Your TITS!” I can only just imagine the variety of breasts this greasy hippy saw that day… sure, the bracelets we made are cool and all, but next big concert we definitely need to bring boob signs. Mental note: made.

Anyhow, the afternoon wore on and eventually the DJ packed it in. We would soon be able to hear the real deal only a short walk away and, though it was a perfect warm up, everyone was starting to migrate towards the concert grounds for the live version! We polished off the rest of the booze that we brought (and we hadn’t packed lightly) and began our march towards the concert gates. We were following the flow of thousands of people, side by side in a nearly endless parade, all pushing on towards a common destination. People were openly drinking and the distinct smell of marijuana filled the warm summer air. Everyone was walking in the same direction at the same speed, taking up the entire road, almost as one single fluid organism. Many others lined the streets, standing and sitting in packs, cheering everyone on as we walked by, and obviously working on getting a bit more intoxicated before continuing their own journeys. It was quite a sight to see!

I could almost sense the greatness as we got closer. Along the way the 5 of us had met back up with our insider, Drew, and his girlfriend. Our group was now complete and it became crucial to stick close together as the foot traffic condensed and slowed as we neared the concert gates.

This is when Kris finally realized that he had left his ticket back in the Civic. Fucking great! I had mine for sure and Chris had his.

“Fuck sakes,” Chris sighed, “Ok, does everyone else have their tickets??”

I held mine out as I looked around the rest of our group. Joel and Brian frantically picked through their pockets but both came up empty and embarrassed. All three of them had forgotten their tickets back in the car. Fuckin Meatheads!

We had just walked with the flow of traffic for almost 20 minutes and now we had to turn around and go all the way back; this time against the humongous crowd. I can’t say that I was too pleased, but Chris was pretty pissed off. He decided to stay with Drew and go inside the concert anyways. The remaining soldiers, Kris, Brian, Joel and myself, were going to walk back to get the tickets. I could have stayed but I didn’t want to soil my very first concert entrance with a less than complete crew. I would take one for the team and march against the current back towards the campground. We would all meet back up later, no doubt.

It felt weird – really weird. We were the only people walking in the opposite direction. Thousands of others passed us showing off their various levels of intoxication. It made us wish we could just turn around and follow, but we wouldn’t get far without tickets. Fuck sakes.

I began to wonder just what kind of night was in store for us, now that we had hit our first real hiccup of the trip. Was it all downhill from here?? I hoped not. At the same time, though, I began to realize just how drunk we were. We were already stumbling all around and I was noticeably slurred and I could feel my drunk face making random appearances. This, I was happy about. So, with that new found positive attitude we covered the trip back to the car in what seems like no time at all!

We even found some liquor that Joel had hidden in the trunk and shared a quick snip before we walked to the concert… again. This time we made triple sure we all had our tickets and were 100% ready. This was truly it! The beginning of my first concert experience and the moment we had been looking forward to for months! AC-fucking-DC, here we come!!

After another blur of strangers and passing asphalt we finally arrived, once again, at the concert entrance. The sheer amount of people I could see just from the small hill we were on was like nothing I can properly describe. I think the final numbers came in at close to 90,000 spectators, but I heard numbers thrown around that were even higher… and I’d believe it. It was an endless sea of people; just a dark, roaring, undulating mass covering the side of the small mountain. With thousands of people wearing flashing red devil horns and taking flash photography the whole crowd was sparkling nonstop! I was speechless and we weren’t even inside yet. For a small town country boy like myself, this was already shaping up to be the craziest night of my already sufficiently crazy life. I was fucking pumped!

As we approached the gates we never even slowed our pace. I was following close behind Kris who had one ear covered and his cell glued to the other. He was frantically trying to converse with Chris and figure out where to meet. Between the two super drunk companions… well, it wasn’t going well. I could tell Kris was getting frustrated, but we pushed on.

There were many different smaller gates, maybe 20 or so, where you could enter. We aimed for the furthest gate to the left, where the line looked the smallest and it seemed to be moving quickly. We only figured out later that we almost definitely cut into the line, because we ended up right at the front without even slowing down. I looked over to the other gates and noticed a few random police officers who seemed to be checking people’s bags. There were none at ours, which was nice, though we should have been fine either way.

Kris was still ahead of me and I could hear him yelling into the phone, “Where are you, man?? What are you close to? Do you see a big Alpine sign??” etc.

Then, out of nowhere, a sketchy looking younger dude with a back pack tapped Kris on the shoulder. Still on the phone, he turned to look at him. The guy seemed a bit panicked, but he just politely asked Kris if he could possibly cut in line. Without even stopping his phone conversation Kris just nodded and let buddy in ahead of us. He thanked us all and breezed through the gate. We followed close behind. Aside from having to show the old ticket maid that it was just a camera in my pocket we got through quite easily and much quicker then I expected.

Just like that we were inside. We assembled just inside the gates and waited while Kris tried to work things out with our missing comrade. The side of the call I was able to hear didn’t sound very promising. Finding Chris in this amount of people was going to be harder then we expected… until I looked towards the stage, that is. I was just trying to get a glimpse of the setup but instead, who do I see stumbling around on a cell phone looking lost and angry? Not 30 feet away was Chris! Just like that, after all the confusion we were finally back together! All 5 of us, drunk as fuck, stoked as shit and together inside the AC/DC concert. We had succeeded where I was sure we would fail. Nothing could stop us now!

Luck was on our side, I knew that already. But things just kept getting better. As we were standing there getting reacquainted, the same backpack wearing sketchy dude from the lineup reappeared out of thin air. Kris was still occupied, so he came up to Joel instead.

“Is that your friend?” he asked, nodding towards Kris. Joel nodded slowly, clearly wondering where this was going. “Here” the guy said, “Give this to him for me, would ya?” He held out a $20 bill. “You friend saved my ass by letting me into line ahead of him. Tell him I said thanks…”

With that he disappeared back into the crowd, never to be seen again. Kris was now $20 richer for no apparent reason. The best we could figure was that sketchy dude’s line was being checked by the cops and he must have had drugs on him. For whatever reason, our line was law enforcement-free and letting him in ahead of us probably saved him a ton of money and trouble. Like I said, the moons were aligned for us or some sort of super cosmic shit was on our side this night. For reals.

Now that we were a complete crew, and riding an adrenaline high from such an amazing day, we knew exactly what we needed to do next: get more fucking beer!

As we soon found out, beer at this concert was not only expensive, but there were only two dreadful options. You could choose between Alpine and Moosehead… that’s it. That’s like choosing between, well, Alpine and Moosehead. I was going to try to come up with some intelligent and witty metaphor but, let’s be honest… who really likes these beers?? Don’t get me wrong, though. Beer is beer once you hit a certain point, and we had all kicked that point right in the face and left it for dead about 3 hours prior. You could pretty much serve us glasses of warm alcoholic urine and we’d be completely satisfied… so being that Alpine was right in that same class, it would have to do!

We all lined up at a small concessions stand. They were selling a variety of items: crazy expensive t-shirts, the very popular flashing red devil horns and, most importantly, beer tickets! Since it’s been almost 5 months since the concert, I can’t remember the exact costs, but I believe that it was around $8-9 per beer. It was ridiculous, whatever it was. But, either way, we each bought at least 7 tickets a piece, over 40 tickets in total, coming to just over $300 between just the 5 of us. We weren’t fuckin around!

From there we had to locate the actual beer tent which, for whatever reason, was nowhere near where the drink tickets were sold. After pushing our way through the sea of people we ended up in a super crowded clusterfuck of strangers, all of us waiting for drinks. There was no real lineup, per se. It was just a huge crowd trying to shoulder their way up to a long row of tables where about 30 buzzing workers would exchange little red tickets for plastic cups of moose piss. It felt like being at a gigantic outdoor bar. An extremely slow moving bar, at that.

About 45 stressful minutes and 5 new friends later we all had our beers. Trying to push your way back out of the crowd (there was stupidly no proper exit… you had to force your way out the same way you came in) with 7-10 plastic cups of beer in hand was no easy task. I sadly lost probably the equivalent of at least 1 beer getting back out and, with the seemingly half full cups as it was, once I was situated outside the cramped crowd, I was able to consolidate all of my 7 drinks into about 5 brimming cups. Much easier to handle, once I drank a bit out of each one for good measure, but still 5 flimsy plastic cups to be responsible for.

Unfortunately for me, during the transition away from the beer tent and my brief stop to fix my cup situation, I had become completely lost. I had absolutely no idea where my friends had gone and we had no plans for this situation. Looking back, we should have chosen a landmark to meet at after the beer tent, but I don’t think any of us expected it to be such a hassle to get in and out of. Clearly poor planning on our part but horrible planning by the concert organizers. Anyone who was there must agree with me, eh? It should never be that hard to get booze at a rock concert.

But, I digress – as I said, I was turned around, drunk and completely lost. The sun was setting now and the lack of light made it even more difficult as I wandered around aimlessly. Cell phones were useless in this crowded, deafening darkness so I had to rely on my vast knowledge of my buddies. I knew two things: 1) they would likely have stuck as close to the beer tent as possible and 2) they had a ton of beer and not nearly enough hands to be doing much walking around.

This gave me a shred of nervous hope. I simply had to search the ground near the beer tent, out where the crowds began to thin out, and I was sure to find them. I don’t know whether it was our continuing luck or my drunken detective skills, but no more than 2 minutes later I literally stumbled across my best friends. The 4 of them all sitting or kneeling on the ground, forming a circle around a large cluster of white and blue colored Alpine cups. The cups were all balanced precariously on the grass, right in the way of strangers stumbling around. I joined them in guarding our precious drinks, like a bunch of mothers protecting our eggs, and added mine to the collection.

It was now pretty much dark out, but the sky was still a bit more grey then black. The main event would surely be starting soon. We had to get our cluster of beers down to a more manageable level before it started. There was no way we could rock out properly with all of these drinks just asking to be knocked over… it would be like trying to party with a baby stroller behind us. Not cool.

This meant we needed to chug at least until we reached a manageable level of 2-3 glasses per person. At our level of intoxication this would not be easy, but we had no problems rising to the challenge!

As we sat there pounding back the beers, we had a few more random visitors; one of which came wearing a goofy cowboy hat and bearing gifts! If you had asked me the guy’s name the next day I might have remembered but, by this point, his name has faded completely out of memory. Donald? Ronald?? Fuck, I dunno, but I suppose it’s not important. What is important is the deal he made with us upon arrival. In exchange for a beer (maybe 2) he offered up a fatty for us all to share. We needed to get rid of excess beers and none of us were a hard sell on the joint. Even I, someone who, at this point, never touched the stuff, was more than happy to indulge in a little toke. Again, when in Rome…

By the time the reefer had made its way around a couple times we had reached a reasonable level of beer cups and an unbelievable level of intoxication. Our new friend stuck around for quite a while, I think, but shortly afterwards the concert began and everything else became unimportant background noise. I was fucked up in more ways than I was prepared for and I was finally experiencing my first real concert – and a mind blowing rock concert, at that!

We were still close by the beer tent when it all started. This location was about as far away as possible with still being able to see the stage (sort of). We were near the top of the hill and, at the bottom following a breathtaking expanse of people, still all blinking and flickering, was the main stage! It was enormous. Perched up high to either side of the stage were gigantic red glowing devil horns – massive replicas of those worn by probably 50% of the crowd. Completing the symmetrical setup were two large projection screens, one on each side, and the rest was filled in with lights, pyrotechnics, and other manly rock-style décor. It was everything I had dreamed of!

They opened with one of their new songs, Rock n’ Roll Train, I think, and a huge elaborate stage show. Unfortunately the distance, combined with the toxic haze we were all in, left us without much more than loud music and a screaming crowd… but none of us could care less! We were rocking the fuck out and could not have been happier!

As an example of how far away we were, though, about 3 songs into their set Joel excitedly yelled, “They’re going to come out soon!! I can feel it! Fuck yea, I’m stoked!”

Mid rock-out, we all sort of paused to look at him. “Uh, Joel…” I yelled back, “They have been out for 3 songs already, dude!”

“No way!” he laughed. “They are playing from backstage and are gonna come out soon, I just know it!”

It was deceptive, being that far away. The stage was massive, but from this distance it was easy to think that it was much smaller than it really was and, by that same token, it looked completely empty. I won’t lie – I had shared the same thoughts as Joel for the first song; until I strained my heavy, bloodshot eyes to get a better look. Sure enough, like a little flea jumping around, I was able to make out who must have been Brian Johnson. He was out on the runway part of the stage that jutted into the crowd. The huge screens to either side of the stage confirmed my thoughts with close ups of the lead vocalist.

Joel, being a complete mess himself, had not clued into this. At least not until we pointed it out to him now. I willing to bet we all shared the same thought, right at that moment: “Damnit, we really are far away!”

It didn’t matter, though. Not to me, not to Kris, Joel, Brian or Chris. This was still better than we had ever expected! We were listening to AC/DC live and in person! It just doesn’t get much better than that.

The whole set was about 2 hours long, I would say, but it went by in a flash. They didn’t mess around with any major crowd interaction or huge segways between songs. Aside from the odd reference to Canada or a few random exclamations you could have convinced me that it was all a recording, but it was still fucking great! It was just straight up rock n’ roll, nonstop, with more songs packed into it then any of us could have hoped for. Old stuff, new stuff, classics… they covered them all! For Those About to Rock, Back in Black, Dirty Deeds, Thunderstruck, Hells Bells, Shook Me All Night Long (tons of boobies in this one, too!), T.N.T., Whole Lotta Rosie, Big Jack, Highway to Hell, etc. It was just fucking amazing! The light shows, fireworks, theatrics and stage presence of this group (even from miles away) was something that I will never, ever forget.

I was going to write about all the funny shit we did during the concert, like pissing all over the people walking by, but you know what? I feel like that’s almost disrespectful to this part of the story. It was more than just a wild rock concert. It really was that once in a lifetime event that we were all expecting; a perfect climax to an already eventful couple of days!

By the time everything peaked and Angus Young melted our faces with a seemingly endless guitar solo during Let There Be Rock, we were pretty much the most satisfied group of drunks that I have ever seen. It was everything we hoped for and then some. Even if they hadn’t returned for an encore, we would have still left smiling ear to ear… but, they did. Oh yeaaa they did! One last hardcore rock out before we had to return to reality and they totally delivered.

All in all, it was an amazing experience. The Australian pioneers of rock have still got it! Much older than my parents but still pure and natural rock stars that can bring nearly a hundred thousand Atlantic Canadians together for a few hours of glory. Now that is how rock is truly meant to be!

But, just like that, it was all over.

This is when the benefits of being way in the back came into play. We knew if we hustled, that we could beat the majority of the crowd on the way out. The moment we were sure the epic encore was over, we turned and booked it toward the gates!

Joel took the lead and speed walked his way back to the entrance. The rest of us struggled to keep up. Once we funneled through the small gates it was like the beginning of the apocalypse. Being still tingling from the drugs, alcohol and total experience, this part of the night seemed so surreal. That amount of people jammed together, all following a narrow road in the same direction. It was like a scene from a pandemic movie!

Joel turned and shouted back to us, “Everybody hold on to each other and keep moving! Just keep up with me.”

I latched onto the back of his shirt and someone grabbed tightly onto mine. We pushed our way through the thick crowd as one single unit, connected like a train – a rock n’ roll train?? Anyways, this tactic worked great! Joel snaked his way back and forth through the weakest points of the crowd. We were moving at a pace that was hard to maintain without breaking into a jog. We were closing in on the front of the pack, where the crowds were beginning to thin out and disperse to their cars or their campsites.

Once we got a healthy lead on the bottleneck we were able spread out and slow down to a more comfortable pace. This was good news for me! I was so drunk and so high by this point all I wanted was to get some food and veg out.

Kris, Joel and Chris were all on a different level, though. They were all running wild on the rush of the concert and the night of partying ahead. Looking back I wish I was on that same page, but I was a hungover, burnt out, sun soaked mess. I had hit the dreaded wall.

I was already struggling just to keep pace with everyone when Joel broke into a full out jog. I watched as he turned down towards the ditch and onto the empty train tracks running parallel to the road. He began to pull away from our group as he ran atop the old wood and steel tracks. I remember thinking, “Fuck that. He is on his own!”

Joel told me afterwards that not even a minute later he regretted his decision. I guess he was running along at a decent speed thinking to himself, “Why isn’t anyone else doing this? It’s soooo much quicker!” That’s when his drunken legs provided the answer to his question. He caught the toe of his large skate shoe in one of the wooden railroad ties and went down heavy and hard. With barely a drunk second to react his face took the brunt of his mistake.

He popped up a few embarrassing seconds later with a big cut on his palm, a few small scratches and bruises to his face but, worst of all, a totally broken ego. Apparently anyone in the vicinity of his foul up had let out a collective gasp as he went down, and then chuckles as he quickly jumped back up and yelled, “I’ve had worse!” and ran off. Poor Joel… but he’s not lying. He really has had worse! A lot worse. Fuckin Meathead…

Other than Joel’s minor mishap, we made it back to the campground in pretty good time. Lots of people had left after the concert, judging from how packed the roads in and outside of the campground had become. Most of the people around our age, though, stayed and were ready for a wild night of partying! Kris and Chris especially (I think Joel’s tumble knocked him into the burnt out crew with Brian and I).

We were out of easily available alcohol so Joel, Brian and I quietly decided to throw in the towel, get chili dogs at a nearby vendor and hit the sack. Lame, I know, but I was barely able to stand by this point and knew I’d be passed out soon whether I wanted to or not. Honestly, though, after the previous day or so that we had all had, I think it was totally justified.

I slightly remember crawling into the bigger of the two tents we had erected much earlier in the day and curling up in the corner. Sure, it was August, but it was still chilly late at night and I had no blankets or pillows. What followed next was a horribly uncomfortable comatose state for about 6 hours and absolutely no further memories until sun rise. I was dead to the world.

Joel and Brian were right there with me, passed out in the tent full of fail. The two remaining warriors were not going to squander the opportunity to keep going so easily. Chris and Kris searched around until they found a few people willing to sell them a bottle of vodka to continue the debauchery. Once refueled, they found themselves at the beginning of one of the most intense all-night parties of their lives (written, honestly, with a hint of jealousy).

The two barely functional rock stars ended up where I knew Kris would spend the night from the moment I spotted it earlier that afternoon: the flat black party bus from hell!! Keep in mind that I was already passed out cold and the last two standing barely remember anything from during the concert until almost the next afternoon, but they’ve done their best to help me to piece together a few highlight moments for this story…

Speaking with the boys on the trip home, and judging from the stories they have told since, I hear that it was quite a night! The bus had the Back in Black album pounding on repeat and it was packed full with random partiers all night long. Kris said that when he first entered the bus, he noticed that most people were crowded towards the back. The seats weren’t bolted down and had been pushed back and rearranged into a random mess. Many of them were draped with passed out strangers or covered in party filth.

He wasn’t sure how they would be received, but neither of them was going to hold anything back. They dove in head first! First, cheering on a couple of dancing girls while screaming and pounding their fists into the thin metal ceiling. Before long, they apparently joined in along with the girls, dancing and grinding with them as the complete center of attention.

Normally this would cause drama, with our usual luck, but not tonight. Cosmic shit, remember? Though neither of them has any recollection of actually hooking up with anyone, they also don’t recall even coming close to getting in any fights (which is a rare night, when we take things this far). So props to them! There were fights, though, I do believe. Just not involving my Meathead brothers – they kept their noses clean, for once.

Other highlights included some random guy doing backflips off the bus roof, running out of gas and having to climb up top to refill the generator, and then inevitably turning it into a full out roof party.

By late night/early morning, Kris had taken up his rightful position in the driver’s seat of the party bus from hell! If such a vehicle truly existed, there would not be a better candidate for the job. He was controlling the opening and closing of the door and made it his own personal mission to recruit new minions.

People would walk by the doorway and Kris would quickly slam it open. “Get on the bus!” he would scream in his deepest most evil voice.

“Where you headed?” the strangers would inevitably ask.

“STRAIGHT TO HELLLLLLL!!”

He was in his glory on this flat black evil school bus. Kris said that he asked everyone he saw who owned it in order to properly thank them but, the funny thing is, no one there had any idea! No one knew who owned it or how it had gotten there but, for that moment, it belonged to anyone insane enough to pull an all-nighter.

It was a night that the boys barely remember but will never, ever forget. It was perfect!

Personally, I remember nothing until the sun came up. Joel woke me up super early – I think around 6:30am. His plan was to get on the road before the majority of the crowd, in order to beat the traffic. Things were slow but definitely not completely dead when I crawled, tired, sore and freezing, out of the tent. There were still tons of drunks stumbling around, yelling and laughing. My brain was foggy and slow.

I wandered around to assess our situation and found that Kris was still semi conscious, but obviously wrecked. Chris was now in his own tiny tent where he had finally passed out only 10-15 minutes before Joel called for us all to mount up. Kris with a K was pretty much ready to keep it going, but the other Chris was a few hours past his brain’s total shutdown point and was completely unconscious. None of us could wake him up no matter how hard we tried!

We decided to let him sleep for a few minutes while we packed our gear and caught up with Kris about his previous night of adventure. I’ve never seen him so tired but so excited at the same time. I felt like we had given him a great birthday gift, and I think he would have to agree!

As the 4 of us (Chris was still completely dead) chatted and laughed, we began to disassemble the large tent that we had all crashed in.

Brian walked around one side of the tent and I heard him call out in a shocked voice, “Uh… guys. We have a problem!”

We all rushed around to him. I had no idea what to expect, but I felt my stomach turn at the thought of what it might be. What we found made my already knotted stomach drop and my heart rate skyrocket. Brian was knelt down and poking at a mother fucking dead body!!!

It was a motionless corpse lying awkwardly in the mud, pushed hard up against our tent. His lifeless and dirty face was not at all familiar. I felt my knees going a bit weak and my mind was racing. What in the fuck do we do now??

“Oh my fuck, guys! Shit, shit, shit… is he..??”

“No,” Brian replied, letting out a deep breath. “He’s alive. I think. He’s just passed out cold. Who the fuck is this guy anyways??” he said as he looked around our group. We all ended up locked on Kris, the one most likely to have an answer.

Kris just shrugged, “Fuck, I dunno… never seen him before in my life. You sure he’s breathing??”

Brian checked again closely and nodded. Whew! I was still a nervous wreck. I’ve seen quite literally hundreds of guys passed out before, but this dude straight up looked like a dead body. The way he was laying, the amount of mud and filth all over him and his completely motionless state. He made no signs of awareness, even as we rolled him off our tent to pack it up. It just creeped me out, but he was definitely still alive… for now, at least!

Once the tent was all packed up the almost-dead body was then very noticeable. He was now just a young guy lying passed out in the mud right out in the open. This scene drew the curious attention of the group of strangers still rocking out on the nearby party bus. People began to crowd around, trying to rouse the poor kid, whoever he was. None of them knew him either, which was sort of sad. This guy had to have someone, somewhere who was worried about him, but no one nearby had any idea.

The partiers eventually managed to get some glassy eyed grunts out of him, but the kid was in worse shape than anyone I’d ever seen. It couldn’t have just been booze. This guy was on all sorts of shit – he had to be! He was in a completely different world inside his mind and his body was totally limp. Everyone around was laughing and enjoying the poor guy’s situation. For whatever reason, they seemed to interpret his grunts and moans to somehow mean “I would like to stand up” and they decided to try and lift him to his feet… multiple times.

We just stood off to the side and watched. Kris took videos with his phone while he questioned their doomed plans, “What the fuck, guys. What are you gonna do once you stand him up? His legs don’t fucking work!”

His comments went unrecognized. The partiers continually lifted the corpse to his feet and then let him go. They watched and laughed as he immediately and violently fell with a splat back into the mud. After a few more attempts, they gave up and the kid himself tried to take over. He was beginning to return to semi-consciousness and made a good half a dozen failed attempts to get to his own feet. He looked exactly like a baby deer, a fawn, trying to stand in the first minutes after its birth. His legs were shaky and wobbling as he tried to push himself up, only to face plant back onto the ground every time. He still wasn’t coherent enough to even be able to catch his falls. It went from hilarious for the first few attempts to really, really sad, very quickly.

Eventually someone came and helped carry the poor kid out of the field. I can only assume that he ended up alright, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it involved a trip to the hospital before things were said and done. Shitty thing is, buddy probably has no memory of the after party and maybe even the concert! Sucks to be him.

After the excitement died down, Joel went back to try and wake his brother, Chris. It didn’t go well and, even after his tent had been taken down around him, there was still no sign of movement. We let Joel deal with that while the rest of us went to socialize.

The remaining partier’s attention had moved on from the dead body and they were now throwing a football around. Kris, Brian and I stood and watched the half a dozen strangers, marveling at their energy after such a wild night. One of them was even on top of the bus still, jumping around rocking the air guitar and singing along with the Back in Black album (still on fucking repeat!). We were all just taking in the scenery, watching the most hardcore of rock fans still keeping the after party going well into the morning, when the football bounced over to our feet after a bad throw.

Kris, still drunker than I have ever seen him, calmly picked it up. I could see the gears turning as he went over the options in his head. A group of guys, around our age, had their hands up calling for it only a few feet away. Kris looked at them all one by one as he palmed the football and shuffled his fingers onto the laces. Still looking at the group of guys, Kris turned slowly with his arm cocked back, and pointed to the guy jumping around on the party bus roof well over 150 feet away. Kris nodded quickly in his direction, looking for the “go ahead” from the rest of the group. They immediately understood his intent and their faces brightened in anticipation as they all nodded in agreement.

I still remember it vividly: I watched in excitement as Kris turned fully and then planted his feet. His eyes now focused intently and, with a couple of small bounces on his toes and a full extension of his left arm, he pointed out his long range moving target. Kris let out a deep breath, cocked back and the launched the football. I never thought he could possibly come close, not from that distance, anyway. But the ball left his fingers like a rocket and entered immediately into a perfect spiral.

The unsuspecting victim was still dancing around on the roof as the ball tracked towards him. It was a laser beam of a throw that was heading right for the guy’s head! As I watched, I had just enough time to consider the consequences of this… if this dude took one to the face from this distance he was going to drop for sure! Being on a curved metal roof almost surely meant that he was going to fall from about 15 feet up onto god-only-knows-what. This could fucking kill the guy! Oh fuck!

Literally at the very last fraction of a second, still killing the air guitar, the target turned his head to change his stance and rock the chorus. As he turned, the football zoomed by right where his face had been only split seconds before, missing him by a few inches at most! Everyone who had been watching let out a collective “OHHHHHH!!” as the target kept dancing, completely unaware that he had just barely dodged serious injury or even death. I let out another sigh of relief.

Kris, being totally drunk and not caring about consequences yet, was just upset that he had missed. I don’t think he even realized what a throw that was until every single guy watching came up and shook his hand and congratulated him on an amazing arm. Everyone was buzzing and I could hear many random passersby still talking about it, “Did you see that throw?” “What a shot! haha” “He coulda fucking killed him!!” etc. Kris was now beaming with Meathead pride!

Taking the opportunity to end on a high note, we all piled into the car. Joel had poured Chris into the backseat and got his tent into the trunk while the rest of us were fucking around. With that, we were officially ready to hit the road. I climbed into the front and Brian along with a still smiling Kris hopped into the back with our comatose friend.

Sadly, it was time for us to head home. With mixed emotions, we left the campground and dropped Brian off to his bike. After brief, hungover goodbyes we took to the highway and began the long drive back to Halifax.

Poor Joel, even though this wasn’t what we had agreed upon, was stuck sober driving again. But, honestly, he was the only one in any shape. Before the engine even reached operating temperatures, Kris and I had joined Chris in lala land. I passed out in the most uncomfortable position possible and Kris and Chris cuddled up together in the backseat. I don’t think either one of them had any idea where they were or what they were doing, but it sure made for some cute and embarrassing photos!

We likely would have slept all the way home, but Joel woke us a short time later when he stopped for breakfast at MacDonalds. I was tired and hungover, Kris was still drunk, Joel was about on my level, but Chris… Chris was in a world of hurt. His eyes were glassed over, his words were jumbled and made no sense, he could barely function and, as far as I could tell, he was pretty much sleep walking. It was so bad that it was bordering on creepy, but it was definitely entertaining!

After waiting forever for our shitty fast food and watching Chris steal a complete stranger’s order before going to hide in the car (one that I think was less food than the one he paid for and bailed on), we decided that it was finally time to head home for good. Like always, MacDonalds was a horrible idea and the rest of the trip would be spent in quiet agony. I don’t know how Joel managed, but somehow he finished the drive all by himself and got us home safely to Halifax.

It was only when we got back to our home base at the Park Victoria apartments that Chris woke up and was almost himself again. He had and still has no recollection of the drive, the stop to MacDonalds, stealing food, or even a good chunk of the party the night before. In other words, it was a great fucking night!

When we arrived in Halifax, Joel drove us down into the depths of the parking garage to get his brother’s car. Remember waaay back at the beginning of this story when I told you about his tools being removed from the car and how it was important later? Well, it turns out that some assholes decided to break into Chris’ car while we were gone. His poor Golf had a broken window, both door locks beat in, and holes punched through each front door skin. Clearly, whoever had tried to break in wasn’t very good at it.

I know what you’re thinking, though… oh no, your luck finally ran out! What a horrible way to end the trip. But, you know what? Nothing could bring us down by that point. Chris left nothing of value in the car, all of his expensive tools were safe in Yarmouth and, aside from eventually needing a new window and driver’s side door, there was nothing missing at all. Chris ended up trading his free parts car for a good door and window (the door needed to be replaced due to a previous incident, anyways) later on and the car stayed alive long enough to be sold a few months later. What a great rig that little beater was! Many good memories were made in that Golf…

Anyways, we had successfully made it to Moncton and back, all of our master plans had gone flawlessly, we had an amazing time and, best of all… we got to give our friend the greatest birthday present ever. We were in rough shape, but every single one of us was in a great mood. Lady luck was still on our side and, when we arrived in Halifax, guess what we found on the front lawn of the apartment complex? Kris’ missing set of keys from 2 nights back! The ones that we lost off of the balcony what felt like years before. Even the negative things that happened earlier on were now completely resolved (except for the piss shower… but, even that became a great story, I guess!).

Finding the keys was such a small and meaningless moment, but it really felt like it was the final missing piece of our puzzle. Never before, and likely never again, will we party so hard for so long and be able to say that nothing remotely bad happened to any of us! No one got badly hurt, nothing got lost or destroyed (not counting the poor Volkswagen Golf), we had the time of our life and got to experience AC/DC live together with our closest friends! I couldn’t have asked for a better group to go with and I don’t think that any of us will ever forget the events that transpired over those amazing couple of days. But now, if we ever do, we can always refresh our memories by reading this story. I know that writing it has certainly taken me back and made me smile and laugh like it happened just yesterday, so it’s already well worth it!

I hope that I was able to do it justice and that you all have been able to relate and enjoy it just as much. For me, it wasn’t just a concert; it was my very first concert! Now that it’s all said and done, I couldn’t imagine a better way to pop my concert cherry. On the way home to Yarmouth later that day, I took the wheel and let Chris catch up on much needed sleep. As I sat there in the glass covered driver’s seat of the Golf, being quiet so I didn’t disturb my passenger, I got to thinking… not too many people can say (and none would say it so proudly) that their concert virginity was taken by AC-fucking-DC!