by Tom Mahony
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\nThe plan was to sneak me into the Iron Maiden concert. I had no ticket and the concert was sold out. Joey worked concession at the amphitheater and had inside connections. We paced his garage, plotting and scheming. We hatched scenarios and scrutinized them and scrubbed away the bad stuff until one option remained.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou hide in the back of my truck while I drive into the employee parking lot,\u201d Joey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI walk to my concession stand. You wait in the truck until the show starts, slip through the parking lot, and you\u2019re in. Easy as that.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated. It sounded simple enough. But nothing was ever simple with Joey involved.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if I get caught? I heard the security guards brutalize trespassers. Smitty\u2019s brother used to work there. He said they beat kids all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Joey waved dismissively. \u201cOnce in a while.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce in a while?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo they bitch-slap you a few times. What\u2019s the big deal? It\u2019s Maiden, man. One night only. Sold out. This could be your only chance to see them. Ever. Who knows if they\u2019ll tour again?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated. Fear versus history.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m in.\u201d
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\nJoey picked me up in his truck the next evening. We drove to the amphitheater. Joey chattered away. I nodded nervously, sick with fear. But it was Maiden, thinking-man\u2019s metal. I had to do it.<\/p>\n
As we neared the place, Joey pulled over and I hopped into the bed of the truck, covered with a mini camper shell and lined with storage compartments. I wedged into a cramped and sweltering compartment. It seemed to take hours to drive a couple of miles.<\/p>\n
The truck slowed and stopped. I heard voices, probably the security checkpoint to the employee parking lot. I held my breath. The truck shifted into gear and accelerated. I exhaled in relief.<\/p>\n
A minute later the truck stopped, the engine died. <\/p>\n
\u201cAll clear,\u201d Joey said.<\/p>\n
I poked my head out of the compartment. \u201cWe\u2019re in?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Just stay here until the opening band is finished and Maiden takes the stage. There\u2019s a gate over there with a security guard.\u201d He nodded vaguely across the lot. \u201cThe guard should leave when the main event starts. Walk through the gate and you\u2019re home free.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d <\/p>\n
Joey walked off.<\/p>\n
The opening band started playing. I sat in the truck listening to the distant rumble. The set ended and the place went quiet again. The minutes crawled along. Agonizing. Unbearable.<\/p>\n
Then the amphitheater went dark. The crowd roared, drums started pounding.
\nShowtime. <\/p>\n
I slipped from the truck, crouched down, and searched for guards. All clear.
\nI trotted through the parking lot. The music thumped in the distance. I longed to be there, just one last obstacle. I saw the gate up ahead. No sign of the guard.<\/p>\n
Perfect.<\/p>\n
Maiden blasted through their first song. My fear vanished and I surged with anticipation. I had visions of front row seating, multiple encores, gorgeous heavy metal tramps whored-up in full concert regalia. Maybe, just maybe, I\u2019d score more than a free concert this evening.<\/p>\n
Almost there. Twenty feet. Ten. Five.<\/p>\n
As I reached the gate someone grabbed my shirt and yanked me backward.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell, kid?\u201d<\/p>\n
A security guard spun me around and shone a flashlight in my face. I froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou trying to sneak in?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou work here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe?\u201d<\/p>\n
My brain wasn\u2019t functioning. I panicked. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen what are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cFess up.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no weaseling out of this. I could only beg for clemency. \u201cOkay, you caught me. But can you cut me a break? It\u2019s Maiden.\u201d<\/p>\n
He lowered the flashlight and fixed me with a cold hard glare. <\/p>\n
\u201cC\u2019mon, man,\u201d I pleaded. \u201cWhat\u2019s the harm? Let me go and we\u2019ll forget this ever happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
He kept glaring but in the flashlight glow I saw the first trace of pity in his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou must\u2019ve done something like this as a kid,\u201d I said, the groveling coming easier with my desperation. \u201cLet me go, just this once. It\u2019s Maiden. A once in a lifetime experience.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face softened. A faint smile spread across his lips, perhaps harkening back to his own halcyon days of concert tomfoolery. Youthful indiscretions. This guy got it. He\u2019d grown older but hadn\u2019t forgotten what it was like back in the day. I felt a burgeoning bro-moment, an intergenerational connection.
\nA passing of the baton.<\/p>\n
The pass was completed by his fist crashing into my jaw. I folded to the ground. He yanked me up by the hair and marched me to the exit gate and shoved me through and slammed it shut.<\/p>\n
I trudged home five miles in the dark. There would be no Maiden that night. No gorgeous heavy metal tramps. The pain and disappointment and humiliation might conceivably offer life lessons, broad in scope and crucial to personal evolution. Revelations about responsibility, honesty, better strategic planning. But all I came away with was one insight, narrowly focused, that served me well in later years:<\/p>\n
If you want to score heavy metal tramps at a Maiden concert, you have to buy a ticket. by Tom Mahony The plan was to sneak me into the Iron Maiden concert. I had no ticket and the concert was sold out. Joey worked concession at the amphitheater and had inside connections. We paced his garage, plotting and … Continue reading
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\n\u201cThinking Man\u2019s Metal\u201d has previously been published in Cantaraville and Tom Mahony\u2019s Slow Entropy<\/em>.
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\nTOM MAHONY<\/strong> is a biological consultant in California with an M.S. degree from Humboldt State University. His fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in dozens of online and print publications, including Surfer Magazine, Flashquake, The Rose & Thorn, Pindeldyboz, In Posse Review, Boston Literary Magazine, 34th Parallel, Diddledog, Foliate Oak, and Decomp. His short fiction collection, Slow Entropy<\/em>, was published by Thumbscrews Press in 2009. He is looking for a publisher for several novels. Visit him at tommahony.net<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"