We’re Going Streaking!
New Years is always an event, whether you’re hitting the lower volume social scene at a house party or venturing out into some aspect of the public. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of severely drunk or drug-addled folks to provide the entertainment. Honestly, aside from random make-out’s and the hopeful hook-up, who really cares about rolling the clock around midnight again. We’re members of the 4AM club.
I wanted to share what was truly an eventful night for me and the travelling circus I found myself with in Alabama. Alabama, yes, you read that right. Who in their sideways or right mind ends up there? Well, Bassnectar in his infinite wisdom (which I don’t bother questioning) decided to hold a show in Birmingham to essentially spread the wealth of his live set to folks who aren’t usually nearby. Honorable and well played. Great show, but my story features a short interlude that occurred just before his actual set started. As the Glitch Mob finished up, everyone had sufficiently soaked in liquored, smoked down, and loaded up on everything they needed for our favorite DJ to tee up NYE. Thankfully for myself in particular, I had just closed out on a truly Southern blunt with a few people. The impending set had brought on such a hazy anticipation that my brain was reeling. The lights were back on, and I’m settling into a solid area with my friends when I notice a younger guy without a shirt getting a little too excited about nothing.
Again, there’s no shortage of drugs or eccentrics at these shows, but usually the girls are the ones wearing less than usual. Within the two seconds it takes me to notice him, the rest of the crowd in his area does too, and they’re not very pleased. Within the next three seconds of noticing him, I now see that he’s neither wearing pants nor boxers. So, we have a twenty-something running around fully stripped down in the Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Complex, and he’s taken it upon himself (as jacked up as he is) to run into people as the festivities dance around in his head. People are pissed. Thankfully, I’m somewhere on the order of 30-40 ft. away from this fellow, but he’s doing that whirling dervish type motion so who knows where the mayhem is going. Of note, the BJCC indicates that the stadium seating holds as many as 19,000, and it was fairly cold so I hope that he truly doesn’t remember the events which transpired that night for his own ego.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the story thus far, but this is my favorite part. Security finally takes notice, and I can tell you from sneaking people onto the floor that the general vibe from the security and staff is “we don’t give a fuck, just don’t die.” In all honesty, a policy I can get behind. Obviously sloppy, public dick displays do not apply to this “Laissez-faire” policy. One poor security team member was either too close to the damage or too much a rookie and was tasked with handling the Burning Man representative. As security approached, the spidey-sense on our naked friend took over and alerted him to danger. Security then made an effort to simply remove (i.e. no-touch escort) this young man, and he resisted.
Funny enough, he decided to yell at security as if to say this was his god-given spiritual right, sure thing Pocahontas. Security then attempted to put a very daring and furtive hand on the young man. After receiving the hand to the shoulder, naked man lost it and put some serious force behind pushing off on security. The lone security officer wasn’t having any of this and attempted to forcibly wrangle the kid. I can’t stop laughing…maybe it was the Kush, maybe it was the security officer doing everything to avoid the dick, but I was dying. Like a greased watermelon, the kid somehow gets away from security, takes a step back, and in a true fight or flight moment, turns back around, faces security, and squares up to some extent. Brave move, but totally unfounded when you’re that exposed. Security gets on him, and I lose the two in the shuffle of everyone trying to move away, but I see security come up with the kid, and immediately force him to the door. His arms are subdued, and thankfully he’s given in to the unfortunate fate awaiting him. As he walks away, giving his last hurrah of dick-out decadence, the BJCC, in an almost unified move, awards him applause. Surely lacking a hook-up or even a midnight make-out unless he found a willing companion in holding, the cheers should suffice for ringing-in what may be this young man’s most eventful year. As Bassnectar walked out to an awaiting crowd for NYE 360°, I’d say we all wondered for a brief second what type of year we were forging into…
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