Never too old to try something new -- My first mosh pit

Upon the recommendation of our son, Ron and I went to Dallas last week to hear a concert by the band Dropkick Murphys. Ryan told us they were an Irish rock band, and we're "into" all things Celtic. Now, there WAS a bagpiper, but that's as far as the show went in matching my vision for the evening. Turns out their style could be described as Irish heavy metal. (Not sure why #1 Son assumed that was gonna be right up our alley, but while it was not my kind of music, it was certainly a new experience for this grandma and I was actually facinated -- AFTER I begged a waitress for a napkin and improvised some ear plugs!)

Ryan had wisely recommended that we sit in the balcony, knowing that the floor of the venue was standingroom only and the DM fans would be MOSHING. For the uninitiated -- like me -- I should include Webster's definition, but I don't think 'moshing' has made that book yet, and certainly not my 1993 publication. It is, basically, a hybrid activity that resembles a dance, a fight, and a version of human bumper cars. Picture folks standing almost shoulder to shoulder, head bobbing to the very loud music. Jostling breaks out in an area and grows to shoving, but the close proximity of the participants keeps anyone from actually getting knocked down. You just crash into a neighbor, bounce off, and ricochet off in another direction in the "mosh pit". What is most amazing, however, is that all this shoving doesn't result in angry responses. It's very voluntary. You apparently don't even get into the area unless you're needing a few new bruises.

From the safety of the front row of the balcony, we watched the show -- and sometimes checked out what the band was doing, as well. The "moshers" were mostly male and heavily tattooed, with Statue-of-Liberty-spiked hair apparently a plus. There were some girls who would jump in at times, and they seemed to be able to hold their own. One group of fools had taken a little boy down there with them, assuming that they could keep him safe by huddling up and forming a protective "pod" around him. I couldn't relax for always trying to spot the little guy, since I did not see any way for the group of five to adequately shield the child from the twenty or thirty who were crashing all around them, oblivious to or unconcerned with the child in their midst. Eventually the pod worked their way to the front row and passed the kid -- hand over hand, overhead -- to a bouncer and out the door. I saw the little boy later as we filed out and learned he was only nine -- and a scrawny nine, at that. He was all smiles though, so I guess he was no worse for the wear. And his mom (sporting a few tats and more than a few piercings) was beaming proudly.

I had heard of crowd surfing and seen it on televised concerts, but this was another first for me. First, people somehow work their way above the crowd. Once they were elevated above the crowd, they get passed along on the outstretched hands of ... whomever... until they are (a) dropped or (b) reach the front row railing where a bouncer unceremoniously assists them to the ground and points them out the door. We lasted 'til the concert ended, and our ears were still ringing when we got to the car. In fact, our ears were still ringing when we got UP the next day.