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Aug. 7th, 2003 01:03 amWent to the Exhibition. Much fun was had, aside from the when stuffed lion won for me and some amount of money were stolen, but I do have to say this: Carnies should not be allowed to touch people. Ever.
Saw the Default/Theory of a Dead Man concert. I felt rather smart when I did the math. Tickets for the double bill were $25, but the radio station was giving away second tickets for free. So, we're looking at $12.50 a ticket. Tickets included admission to the Ex, valued at $9.
(25/2) - 9 = $3.50 (Witness prospective Engineering-girl!)
We saw Theory of a Dead Man and Default for $3.50 a person, and they rocked. ToaDM kicks ass live, and Default puts on an awesome show. I love outdoor shows, and the ones at the Ex are always good. Went to see Adam Gregory last year with a different group of friends, and we snarked as bras were thrown on stage, only to learn later on that the girls who did so were from our school.
I don't go to that many concerts. I don't have the money, and even if I did, there aren't that many acts that pass through Saskatchewan. They skip from Alberta to Ontario most of the time. Even Manitoba gets more play than we do, because half their population lives in Winnipeg.
There's just something about outdoor summer concerts, you know? Standing in the shadow of the grandstand as the sun sinks through the horizon. Faded breaths of warm air, heavy with cigarette smoke and cotton candy, tickling toes and the back of the knees, slipping along every inch of exposed skin: neck and shoulders, the strip above the top of your shorts where your tank top creeps up.
Event staff in bright yellow, winding through Westbeach and Quiksilver, Hurly and Fox; across the faded asphalt, the chipped white and yellow lines laying out what will fade back into a parking lot by the end of the carnival. The flap at the back of the stage that's not quite closed, so the merry-go-round spins endlessly behind the performance.
There's something about way bass thrums through open air and pavement, catches in your chest and your head and works through the soles of your shoes. The distant screams of riders between sets, the flashing lights to the left as people slingshot 150 metres into the air. The press of bodies, watching as a girl in pink capris is launched, laughing, into the air.
There's just something, when five hundred fists pierce the air in unison, fluorescent green admission bracelets catching in the stage lights, and stray helium balloons drift overhead.
Or maybe it's just something to me.
Saw the Default/Theory of a Dead Man concert. I felt rather smart when I did the math. Tickets for the double bill were $25, but the radio station was giving away second tickets for free. So, we're looking at $12.50 a ticket. Tickets included admission to the Ex, valued at $9.
(25/2) - 9 = $3.50 (Witness prospective Engineering-girl!)
We saw Theory of a Dead Man and Default for $3.50 a person, and they rocked. ToaDM kicks ass live, and Default puts on an awesome show. I love outdoor shows, and the ones at the Ex are always good. Went to see Adam Gregory last year with a different group of friends, and we snarked as bras were thrown on stage, only to learn later on that the girls who did so were from our school.
I don't go to that many concerts. I don't have the money, and even if I did, there aren't that many acts that pass through Saskatchewan. They skip from Alberta to Ontario most of the time. Even Manitoba gets more play than we do, because half their population lives in Winnipeg.
There's just something about outdoor summer concerts, you know? Standing in the shadow of the grandstand as the sun sinks through the horizon. Faded breaths of warm air, heavy with cigarette smoke and cotton candy, tickling toes and the back of the knees, slipping along every inch of exposed skin: neck and shoulders, the strip above the top of your shorts where your tank top creeps up.
Event staff in bright yellow, winding through Westbeach and Quiksilver, Hurly and Fox; across the faded asphalt, the chipped white and yellow lines laying out what will fade back into a parking lot by the end of the carnival. The flap at the back of the stage that's not quite closed, so the merry-go-round spins endlessly behind the performance.
There's something about way bass thrums through open air and pavement, catches in your chest and your head and works through the soles of your shoes. The distant screams of riders between sets, the flashing lights to the left as people slingshot 150 metres into the air. The press of bodies, watching as a girl in pink capris is launched, laughing, into the air.
There's just something, when five hundred fists pierce the air in unison, fluorescent green admission bracelets catching in the stage lights, and stray helium balloons drift overhead.
Or maybe it's just something to me.
