By Beauty Damned

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

That's the only way I can think of to describe it adequately in one word. I'm still soring after yesterday's madness. It was a truly legendary day in my life and that of my companions. So Kathleen, Frannie and I went to "Little Stevie's Underground Garage Festival" on Randall's Island. It was easy to get to. We just took the train to 125th Street in Harlem and buses were running constantly, taking people over to the island. We were there before we knew it. It was a cool venue. I've never been to Randall's Island before, even though I used to live on the little Island right down river from it, Roosevelt Island. Cirque De Soleil always performs at Randall's Island and I've always wanted to go, but never made it in the years I've lived here. (I saw in Santa Monica when I was a kid, but always wanted to go again. It's one of the most spectacular things on earth.) Anyway, the venue there was really nice. A big, lush, sprawling lawn lined with food and beverages and merchandising booths leading up to a great big stage. The whole field is surrounded by tall trees. It was very pleasant.

The people who attended the concert were pleasant too for the most part. It was a good crowd, with exception to the few who will always be there that can temporarily ruin it for those around them. We witnessed a few incidents, and were even party to one. One really drunk blonde was pushing on us and yelling at this guy next to her "you are a fu-CKING faggot!" then she punched him in the head and was led away by the rational fellow who was also there with them. She and dude #2 stood off for awhile and danced until she got a hankerin to come back to hit the "fucking faggot" in the head for a second time. She was dragged away once again. Hahaa! That was pretty funny.

Then there were the two girls that came barreling into our little space where we were standing and dancing and enjoying the Strokes' AMAZING performance. All of a sudden, these two dingbats come pushing and shoving and talking and taking pictures on their stupid cellphones. Incidentally, the one behind me consistently shoves her hand in front of my face in order to take pictures with her mobile phone. I try with body language to indicate that she is really violating my personal space and that of the people around me (there was no room where we were standing for these additional bodies in the first place). She doesn't get the hint with my elbow jabs and hip shoves. The hand comes up again, into my face, she is literally bouncing up on my back, I turn around and say "knock it off, get your cellphone out of my face. Thanks." She doesn't realize how serious I am. She brushes me off and says "why don't you just chill out?" (or something). I say "no. Keep it out of my face." I face forward again and continue dancing. The little tramp decides to antagonize me by putting the phone right back up just inches away in my peripheral line of vision. I reach up and clamp my hand onto the top of her phone, twist it around tight in my grip, and turn to face her. I put it to her then: "get your fucking phone out of my face before I fucking break it in half." She, again, tells me to chill out. I tell her I'm not chilling out. She had come rudely shoving her way up into our space and talking on her stupid phone and taking mobile pictures that for some reason required bumping up against me and my friends and shoving her hand/phone into my personal cranial perimeter and that now, if she didn't get the fuck away from me, I was going to snap her little cingular wireless or whatever the fuck right in half, right there and then. At this point she looked scared enough that I felt confident to let go my fierce grip on her phone and turn back around towards the band. Next time I checked, her and her friend had slunked away and we were, once again, left in peace. If it's possible to say without sounding egotistical, I felt quite triumphant, and the remarks of those around me made the blood pressure level worth it. Kathleen just stared at me for a few minutes before laughing and saying "wow Maria. You really told that bitch off." At one point this random girl behind me tapped my shoulder and said "I don't know you, but I just want to tell you that what you did was awesome. You told that bitch." Hahaaaa! Woooo! Some people just need to be told. (With a certain ruthlessness that sometimes seems to be the only way to get the point across).

The bands were utterly fantastic. Nearly every single band we heard was incredible. Bo Diddley blew us away. The Romantics blew us away. The Dictators, the Fuzztones, the Raveonettes, the New York Dolls, the Strokes! Oh my god. It was overwhelmingly euphoric. And those are only a few of the amazing bands that played. We drank a few beers and enjoyed hanging out on the grass when we weren't up in the thick of the crowd in front of the stage rocking our little bodies this way and that. The only really rotten scenario was the port-o-potties, but we just won't talk about that. The memory will haunt me for awhile to come.

The bands, the bands....what a beautiful thing they were. I felt so lucky to be standing there the entire time, that even after hours of standing and sitting and dancing and drinking and hollering and clapping and whistling and screaming, I never wanted it to stop. By the time the Strokes played, we were only a few feet from the front. They were phenomenal. By the time Iggy finally came on, the last, the headlining, the wildly anticipated, we were so full of energy and excitement. And then he came out and fucking rocked us. I mean rocked us like no one else could. He filled the space that no one else could fill, with all their amazing talent and incredible songs, he had the physical presence that is totally unique to him. That body. That swagger that looks like a result of scoliosis or one leg being ever so slightly longer than the other. The man looks like a god in tight, hip hugging blue jeans and not a thing else. His body is a sculpture of absolute perfection. His energy grabbed every single person in that crowd... and we went fucking nuts for him. He came right up to our side of the stage and I do swear that we made eye contact several times. He is so much WITH the crowd. He doesn't try to separate himself mentally, he tries to merge with this insane intensity. He stage dived soon after entering his first song. At one point people were trying to climb over the barrier to the security walkway in between the stage and the crowd and Iggy shouted "let them in!!! LET THEM IN! Let them on the stage! Come on! Let them in!!!" People were struck with fervor and just started pushing, grabbing, tumbling over one another to get over the barrier. We felt the crowd pushing at our backs, people eager to accept Iggy's invitation, eager to get a little closer to this idol. Kathleen and I made the mutual decision to climb over the barrier and join the rest of the maniacs at the stage directly in front of Iggy. It was chaos. I thought there might be a riot and it would be all Iggy's fault. But it didn't turn into a riot. Iggy had about twenty five or more people up on the stage with him, dancing their hearts out, and everyone else trying to get up there too, but eventually, order was restored. Though not before we got to stand up on a ledge for about fifteen minutes with an amazing view of the entire crowd, dancing the night away with Iggy as our saint, bringing the natural ecstacy of energy and music, and the virtue of abandoning rules and responsibility for just a little while, into all of our lives.

And then it was over. And we took our tired bodies home to rest. It's a brand new day today and yesterday is another incredible memory to store away and enjoy for the lifetime to come.

Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention that we ran into this girl, Ginger, from Ashland, Oregon who knows all the same people I know there. That was really random. She lives in L.A. now and flew all the way to NY to see this show. That amazed me. So Kathleen, Frannie and I took the train with her and all her friends from L.A. They were fun. Good company for the trip home. Small world!

Posted by Maria at August 15, 2004 01:32 PM | TrackBack