Warped Tour And better – Creative Writing

I gazed up in amazement at the enormous marque arch which made up the railway bridge, which I, together with the new(prenominal) thousands of fans, was brand under making our way towards the vast expanse of open handle that constituted the concert arena. I hoisted myself onto the metal barrier enclosing the jam of people and slowly inched my way toward the make shift box single-valued function to collect my tickets.By the duration I reached the box office it was cardinal thirty and it was 100F. The midday sun was harsh and I could musical note the heat deracinationting across my neck like a ruddy hot rapier. The dust was incredible. The grass had been worn away by the thousands of place scouring it, causing a permanent haze of dust to windbag the conference as they rushed into the field beyond. As I dented against a steel post forming a chain link fence, I peered down at my feet and noticed rivers of sweat cascading down my legs and evaporating into the haze. Every tim e I took a breath I felt an abrasive champ in my throat, causing a painful scratching or so my tonsils, which I eventually relieved by bringing up a crackpot of brown mucus which I spat step to the fore onto the dusty aim and rubbed into the earth with my foot. I got the tickets.Once past the tickets and by means of a serial publication of security checks I ambled into centre of a cluster of around dickens hundred gazebos, all of them hung with eye catching decorations, selling a vast variety of music paraphernalia, however, I was looking for just one live the DRIVE-THRU RECORDS tent. Quickly I paced through serried ranks of displays until a glint of orange tree caught the corner of my eye and there in bold, black print were the run-in DRIVE-THRU RECORDS.I barged through the throng of people twisting and turning until I arrived at the stand and was greeted by my babe who had managed to obtain VIP admission to the venue. As I gazed over her shoulder I spied tables decked with musical memorabilia and perched on the edge of one of the tables was a large glass jug containing cool, light up water. Grabbing the jug I swigged the water down in two coarse gulps and wiped my hand across my mouth licking the final few droplets from around my lips.Having been refreshed I continued my quest to find the stages, however it was cut short when a magnificent cheer erupted from my right. Spurred on by this yowl of excitement I grabbed my friend and dragged him with me toward the noise. We burst through the line of the control gazebos and finally found ourselves in the crushing surge of people military press towards the stage. Surveying the crowd we spied gaps and quickly manoeuvred our way between the bodies until we could squeeze through any further as it was just too packed.As the guitarists strike the first chords the crowd went wild, pulsating into life, jumping, waving, screaming and shrieking with delight. The atmosphere was electric injecting everyone w ith complete(a) adrenaline and energy.The last note was twanged and like a switch it caused the drove of people to slowly flood out towards the tents and huddle around the stalls selling water. But not me, because, as if by magic, my baby appeared astir(predicate) 100 yards away. She was waving two thin slips of orange paper, trying to seduce me towards her. I couldnt quite make out what the papers were, however I had a good idea. I signalled to my friend to head toward her. As we got walking(prenominal) the slips seemed to glow a much more vibrant orange and I knew exactly what they were backstage passes. Like a deer, frozen in headlights, I stood in a trance as she handed us the passes to set around our wrists.Once I was out of my own world, my sister and I snaked through the crowd towards the tour bus whilst my friend shuffled to the front of the crowd to watch the next band.As I stepped onto the tour bus (which my sister had been staying on for the last five weeks) I fel t a apprehend of cool clean air hit my face and the bus almost felt cold as I felt the hairs on my arms prick up. My sister grabbed two bottles and chucked one to me. She introduced me to a few of the other people retreating from the heat and then we headed out.Over the last few weeks when my sister had been away whenever I spoke to her over the phone she would brag nigh how she was making friends with some of the famous people on tour. One of them world someone who I practically worshiped And I was about to meet him.I stared in disbelief as a man who I ache posters of on my wall waved and smiled at my sister. The man, Travis Barker, was under a gazebo (guarded by the biggest man Id ever seen) behind the main stage. He was leant over a small box with pads which would light up and he would hit them with his strum sticks. My sister walked up to him while I followed trying to work out if it was dream. My sister introduced me to him and when he shook my hand it sent a shake down my spine. My sister and I spoke to him for a while notwithstanding the fact I was so dumbstruck. Eventually we had to leave as he had to play so I got him to sign my hat even though I felt stupid asking and we headed back to the tour bus.The tolerate of the day seemed to go quickly after this in a disgrace of watching bands and staggering to the tour bus for replenishment. The last image I have of the day is looking back at all the people, the stupefying size of the whole field and how amazing Warped Tour had been, but it was nothing like looking down at my hat which was I was clutching in my hand.