I’m happy to report that the third time was the charm. I finally got inside the Sunshine Theatre last night after two failed attempts which you can read about here and here. Last night’s show was my first heavy metal show ever. I went straight from work, not really looking like a head-banger, but I felt relatively safe in my chunky boots and I tried really hard to wipe the smile off my face and look all dark and scary and use my long black hair to my advantage, but I still kinda stuck out. I tried to stand in the fringes and enjoy the show near the pit, on the edge of the chaos, which I enjoyed very much. But I still wanted to be incognito . . . just to be safe . . . just to avoid any rumble.

I liked the raw energy coming out of the crowd, the showmanship of the musicians, the intricacies of the music, the lighting, and the artwork. I enjoyed the fact that I remembered my earplugs. While the roadies were setting up the headliner band, whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce, we pushed as close to the stage as we could. Pretty soon Michael and I found ourselves jam-packed inside a mob. We were in the worst possible spot - the middle, mashed right up against a bunch of thick dudes with long hair and black Slayer t-shirts who were looking to start shoving and pushing and unloading all their pent-up angst by forcing a head-cracking, giant mosh pit to open up oh . . . right about where we were standing . . . I could tell they were just waiting for the band to start, waiting to get nuts. I was on-guard, but too naive to be scared.

That is, until Michael looked at me and said, “I’m spooked. Are you?” At first I thought he was joking around. Then I realized he wasn’t. Then I got scared. Then I remembered I had on some shit-kickers for boots and regained composure. I was still having trouble looking ‘dark’ enough; I could barely wipe the grin off my face, and I’m not sure why.

The first intricate chords of heavy-metal guitar music erupted with steam and smoke and lights and shit flying through the air and suddenly, I was part of a pulsing crowd, losing all sense of control of my own ability to move. There was a massive thrust forward as the weight of layers of people pressed into me. Sure enough, the group of grumbling dudes just to my right began pushing and shoving. At first, I allow myself to go limp and the shoving gets more intense and maybe even on the razor’s edge of violent, so I tense up every muscle in my body and push back HARD with everything I’ve got with my arms, my legs, my back, my neck. I get my boot ready to come down and deliver a crack in the shin at a moment’s notice and then, suddenly, all aggresiveness ends with them. I’m just moving and straining and fighting and living and part of it all.

Ha! The joke was on me yesterday.

I’ve been to the Sunshine Theatre here in Albuquerque twice now. And have not gotten in either time. The Sunshine Theatre is known for it’s awesome shows. I’ve seen many a night where the line to get inside the door is wrapped around the block and down the street - people shivering in the cold, just waiting to get inside. The Sunshine Theatre is supposed to be the best place in all of Albuquerque to see a show. I wouldn’t know.

The first time I went, it was to see Winger. And as you can read about here, apparently 11 PM is too late for Kip. But yesterday was a show I’ve been anticipating for a week now. A cat circus! Now that’s entertainment.

And we got there, braving the whirling spring time winds and . . . . stood in line with a bunch of kids who were maybe just old enough to be in college. And we rocked that line anyway. The bar was closed. Barstools up on the bar kinda closed. No humans in sight. Certainly no performing pusses. We’d even called before we left work early to go to the show.

“Hey!” The kids in line were asking people as they walked by, “Are you here to see the cat circus too?” And people would kind of stare with a big deer in the headlights kinda look, quickly nod their heads ‘no’ and scuttle on down the street. Suckers! We know they were totally there to see performing cats, too, but didn’t want to be caught standing in line . . .

The radio station had been promo-ing this thing all week. Hey! Wait just a minute . . . .

We knew then that we’d been duped. And my first inclination was to look for hidden cameras. Also don’t you know, there were three pay lots, all with attendants, happily waving people over to take their six bucks to park.

Even though I’ve never actually set foot inside the Sunshine Theatre, I know that I like the place already. Two times trying to get in; neither time successful. And I still laugh. I will never forget that The Sunshine Theatre in ABQ has a sense of humor. Priceless. Thanks for getting me out of work a half an hour early, Sunshine Theatre!