We were the metal and Ozzfest, the magnet. With the burning heat reaching down to scold our pale defenseless faces, we began walking impatiently at a pressing pace towards the most massive crowd anyone could stumble upon. The spectator area projected a massive hum of activity and instrumental sound, which was deafening to the ear. Loads of people lined up in scattered paths waiting to get past security. We clutched our tickets tightly as though they contained the final ingredient to the cure of cancer.
Rapidly consuming energy drinks, it provided us with the weaponry force to battle a physically and mentally tiring day of head-banging and trancing to magical beats and vocals. We swarmed with countless other bees to the gate of the hive. The excitement at this point was unmatched and indescribable. We entered mesmerized. It would have been mentally impossible to take in what surrounded me at once, frozen with shock, my eyes flickered as though malfunctioning, and enjoying fragments of what there was to see. There were T-shirt sales, pricing stands, people, autograph-signing booths, people, stages and people, Port-A-Potties, tents and people, rides, skateboard ramps and more people. With no knowledge of direction, I journeyed into close proximity of the main stage where “Iron Maiden” encouraged thousands of rocking heads. We ventured through the crowd to destination unknown with our path being dictated by others equally lost.
In time I gathered my senses and began to absorb the surroundings the best I could. I obtained the timetable of acts that educated me more. One of my favourite bands, “Mastodon” had begun their set and I was alarmed! Vigorously focused on reaching the front of the mosh pit, I passionately fought my way through the crowd. I slipped into a hypnotic state of mind swaying to the movement of the trancing beat as pulsating vibrations penetrated my body from limb to limb. I tried to battle my way through brick walls of people in pursuit of my now lost friends. My fight was soon restricted to a slow stumble while breathing in sweat infested air.
The search for my friends brought the discovery of others. It was like finding a pin when looking for a needle in a haystack. I attempted to describe the indescribable experience I felt at the mastered set, and then I realized I was suffering from temporary hearing loss as they were silently screaming down my ears. The day progressed, I felt weak and weary. I sought the remedy of food and water to energize my sluggish body and brain dead mind. After head banging to the verge of a headache at the “Mudvayne” set, I tried to vacate the main stage but found myself bound in a crowd that eagerly awaited John Osbourne, a.k.a “Ozzy” and his crew to explode on stage. I was trapped in a sea of hunger; I was trapped in the sea of generation X.
The moon hung like the blade on an axe that night. The darkness of night loomed and eventually destroyed the day. During the "Black Sabbath" set, we were sardines in an excessively full can morphing through openings with cockroach capabilities. “time to go home kids” said the security guard, representing the day’s termination. We reluctantly obeyed, uncontrollably looking back at the stellar day we were part of.