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blogging, Blogs, danger, dope, drunks, First Concert, Houston, Joel Osteen, KISS, KISS Army, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, music, mystery writer, Styx, Summit ARena, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, writer
For four impressionable teenage innocent boys, it was a night met with as much anticipation as Christmas Eve. We were going to our first concert.
Tickets were hard to come by, but not near as difficult as negotiations with our parents. We pledged to do anything – including improve our grades! After prolonged begging, we were allowed to attend the biggest and most popular concert on tour that year. Stipulations were placed on our attending, but we didn’t care.
Our bedroom walls were decorated with posters of the band. We had bought every album and eight-track (remember those?) and knew the words to every song. We were even official members of the fan club, or Army as the band called us. The band had sold out two shows in our town and we were headed to the second night’s concert!
On September 2, 1977, we arrived at Summit Arena in Houston, Texas a full hour before the doors were to open. We milled around outside taking in the atmosphere with our two “grown up” chaperones. Yes, they were part of the stipulations handed down to us. Once the doors finally opened, and the crowd started to rush in our excitement level began to rise. This was it. The big night.
Just as the four of us were set to enter the “grown up” chaperones notified us that they were not going in and would wait outside the arena for us once the concert was over. A small level of anxiety set in. We had never been to a concert before and by the looks of the characters in the crowd we were just a little out of our element here.
Setting fear of the unknown aside, we rushed into the arena and found our seats. Our tickets were in the upper most level and in the far back. We were only a few rows away from having the worst seats in the concert hall, but we could care less.
That is until we spotted the guy struggling to walk up the steps. One hand tightly held the handrail, the other circled around him like a helicopter blade as he tried to maintain some level of balance. His long black hair waved back and forth, dancing across his face like car wash brushes across the hood of your car. His eyes were half-opened and unfocused as his head flopped around like it was on a puppet string.
The four of us spotted him at the same time. We elbowed each other in the side, but were too afraid to say a word. The guy continued to stumble his way up the aisle closer and closer to our seats. On several occasions he nearly let go of the rail and somehow avoided falling into the people seated along the aisle. He continued closer and closer to us. Time to panic. We were young, but not dumb. We knew what was about to happen.
As fast as we could see it coming, we saw it coming. A steady stream of Pepto-Bismal colored vomit erupted and landed all over the poor kid sitting on the aisle step below us. The kids head was turned away talking to his friend and never saw what we saw coming. We didn’t know if we should run, scream or laugh. There was no way we could offer the pink colored kid any help. So we just sat there in stunned silence.
As would become a tradition for every concert, my friend and I decided now would be an opportune time to buy our concert shirts. The concourse was packed with people from a world two 15-year-olds had never seen before. The kids our own age had hair longer than our sisters. There were Afros the size of over-inflated basketballs. Men wore makeup, and the women, well lets just say they were confused as to which bathroom to use. Everyone was dressed in costume, and we were still over a month away from Halloween.
We made our purchases, and as we turned to head back to our seats we were greeted by a couple of rather large Hispanic men. They demanded we hand over our concert shirts. We stood in shock. Frozen in complete fear. Suddenly one of them reached out and grabbed my buddy’s concert shirt. Natural instinct set in. Chris immediately, and with all the force and muscle he could gather, pulled back. It was then that we saw the switch blade knife fall out the man’s hand and onto the ground.
We had no doubt what to do next. We ran!
Once back in our seats the voices of our parents concerns began to make a little sense. Maybe, just maybe they were right. Concerts are dangerous and no place for four teenagers. But the parental voices in my head were soon turned off as the arena lights went dark. The moment had come. A loud roar of anticipation came from the crowd. People held up lighters illuminating the crowd in an orange glow.
The PA announcer came over the sound system: “YOU WANTED THE BEST AND YOU GOT THE BEST. THE HOTTEST BAND IN THE LAND….KISS!!” 
Our eyes were glued to the stage and the pyrotechnic show. The band came out playing “I Stole Your Love.” Our little juvenile heads bobbed to the beat of the music. Smiles were transfixed across our face. We raised our fisted arms in triumph.
Then something funny started to happen. It was if someone had let a family of skunks loose in the arena. The “skunky” smell came from all-around us! Suddenly, little, white, hand-rolled cigarette-looking objects were passed our way. What the hell? We passed them right back. Offering our best and polite “no thank you.” We were warned (yes by our parents) about marijuana at concerts. Well, this skunk smell must be it. For the first time in our lives, our senses took in the smell of pot. I have to admit, I still like the smell. Just never been a fan of partaking.
The band played all the fan favorites and as usual put on an entertaining show. They performed all the antics we had read about – fire breathing, blood spewing, explosions, smoking guitars. We left the concert excited as if we had been to the mountaintop. We were on our own “natural” high, or maybe a second-hand smoke high. We met our two chaperones outside and told them what a great concert they missed. They music was so loud, they said, they sat outside and could hear the entire show. I could tell they were relieved it was over, and we had made it out safe and sound.
I look back at that concert with fond and amusing memories. Did we actually go see four grown men dressed in makeup and high-heeled boots? It’s strange that my former concert arena, which hosted the best and loudest concerts, and played host to thousands of drunks and dope heads is now home to preacher Joel Osteen. The Houston televangelist turned the arena into a church. He better perform an exorcism if he expects to rid all the demons from that place!
I don’t remember if we ever lived up to our promise to make better grades. I have a feeling we didn’t. Our little world was never the same after that night. But I’ll never forget my first concert when the circus came to town.
Going to your first concert is like a first kiss (no pun intended) or a first date. Do you remember your first concert? Did you walk through mysterious doors into a world never seen before? Can you remember the opening band? (FYI – the opening band that night was Styx.) What long-lasting memories came from that night?
This post made me laugh so hard. My first concert experience was a little different, given that it was Chicago, but I went on to see ACDC, Bon Jovi, David Lee Roth, etc. The experience was exhilarating in a way that only a teenager can understand. I’ve been to concerts as an adult, but it will never, ever, feel so charged and so AWESOME as it did then.
Your right Julie! For some reason the concerts were much more fun in our youth. Seems like now I hope the show ends before I get too sleepy!
I have to laugh, my first concert was pretty similar to this. I think it was Judas Priest. The guy lurching up the aisle didn’t throw up, he opened his coat to display a veritable treasure trove of drug paraphernalia. How he got in when they searched everyone I have no idea. That was also my first sniff of marijuana. I had no idea what it was until my friend told me. Glad nobody drew a knife though. Over a t-shirt! *shakes head*
We saw Judas Priest several times and the crowds would have been very similar! I remember the lead singer riding out at the beginning of the show on a motorcycle. Now, that was a loud band.
Tim, You are a damned good writer. Too many times I visit blogs where the intention is there (to gain an audience, to build a “platform”), but not the story. I’m interested in good writing and in story. Those are the blogs I choose to follow.
Too many concerts in my past for me to recall which was first. But I was at the Woodstock bash, although not a teenager at the time (yes, I am that ancient), and to me the air smelled fine. No knives there and then, but an overabundance of love, lust and loss.
Anthony – for some reason after I read your comments I seemed to have a little more bounce in my step the rest of the day. Thank you for the very kind words.
If I could go back in time and attend one concert I would choose Woodstock. I have always been fascinated with the entire story of that incredible weekend. How lucky you were to witness such history!
Hey Tim,
This event at the time was probably not as funny as it is now. God how impressionable we were at that age.
I broke into the concert scene a little easier than you did. I went to see the last concert that Bread performed and the opening band just happened to be a new band called Steely Dan. Oh yeah, the initiation of the sweet smell of pot was in the air although I am not a partaker. But the concert was so cool.
After that there was Neil Young, Doobie Brothers, Jethro Tull, Eagles, Joe Walsh, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstat, America, Bob Seger, and the list goes on.
What’s really a trip is when it’s your turn as a parent to go with your kids for their first concert. So off we went to see U2. Okay, I’ll admit it, we didn’t have to suffer too much. But that was the loudest concert I’d ever been to and it was outdoors.
Yes, I still love to go to concerts. but It’s a wonder I have any hearing left. LOL.
Loved your post Tim!
That is cool that you had the opportunity to take your kids to their first concert and see a great band! Your kids probably don’t know how lucky they were that night.
I have pretty severe hearing loss and my parents still blame it on all the concerts my friends and I went to. I think they are right, but I’ll never admit it!
Love your description of your first concert experience. I had a feeling you were at a KISS concert! I went to a circus in that building and I still have a hard time thinking of it as a church when I drive by:)
My first concert experience was Willie Nelson, go figure:) He is my Dads favorite and he took us all as a special treat. It was pretty tame compared to your first concert experience!
There have been some pretty memorable Willie Nelson shows in the 70’s in Houston. I remember my parents going to see him in concert, maybe the Astrodome, and they left early. I was there also (they didn’t know). As soon as I saw all the “green” fog I knew this was the wrong place for my parents. They were expecting a country and western show but not the “redneck/hippie” crowd.
1975 Sam Houston Coliseum (which doesn’t exist anymore). Black Sabbath…opening act…Brownsville Station..Smoking in the boys room.(Remember that song?).Yes it was the indoctrination to sex drugs and heavy metal..!!!!
I wonder how many concerts we went to together. As I recall, none of them were bad!
I didn’t know you are a blogger, Tim. Very nice!
That brings back TONS of memories. My dad took me to my first concert in 1983. The Texxas Jam in the Astrodome. Styx, Sammy Hagar, Ted Nugent, Triumph, Uriah Heap and Golden Earring. Man those were the days!!!!!! I will NEVER forget the smell walking into the Dome that day. 🙂
Chris – I went to a Texas Jam in the ‘Dome in the early 80’s as well. Don’t remember the year, maybe ’81, or the lineup that played that day. Oops! I bet it was cool going to the concert with your Dad. He would be the perfect choice for such an occassion.
I have to admit, my first concert was much, much more tame: Big and Rich at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, which happened right after the annual Professional Bull Riding Competition. This, though, sounds like it was an absolute epic (if slightly scary) experience. Fantastic post!
Thank you Lena. KISS was just the beginning into a lifelong enjoyment of concerts. They aren’t as dangerous as they once were, at least not the ones I go to now, and somehow they don’t seem as fun. Maybe it’s the ticket prices!
Great story Tim. Do I know any of the other three friends? Was it Chris Langley.
Anyway, my first concert was Bachman Turner Overdrive on the Texas A&M campus. My older brother was a student there and I went with Kyle Baker whose sister my brother was dating at the time (Kyle’s my brother-in-law now). It seemed like I went to a concert just about every week back then.
The memory your story resurrected was of the Jethro Tull concert at Sam Houston Coliseum when I was a sophomore or junior. It was on a school night but my parents let me go anyway. I think I went with Sully Griffin and we partied a little too much so I was way hung over the next day but my mom made me go to school anyway even though I was “sick”; that was the deal we made. I spent the entire day sleeping on the couch in Fr. Shaeffer’s office; he gave me a guilt trip instilling lecture at the end of the day. The next day in Mr. Guron’s Advanced Biology class he says to me; “Stephan, I’ve seen drug hangovers and I’ve seen liquor hangovers, and you definitely had both yesterday.” Too funny.
BTW, good luck to your Sooners tomorrow; hope they give aggie a memorable parting gift.
Doug – Chris was the one who had the knife pulled on him. I remember seeing Jethro Tull in the Coliseum, but don’t remember what year it was. Funny how Mr. Guron knew the difference between a drug hangover and a liquor hangover!
Tim,
Thanks for the fun read. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers rocked the old Summit–my favorite concert experience there. Now I look forward to the post you write after your first time as the “adult chaperone” at a concert.