Some time ago, the Rawk Goblin gave the Object his extra Radiohead ticket. Sometime later, the Object came across an opportunity to buy another one, which he offered to me. I was about to pounce on the opportunity, but hesitated. "Waaaaaaaaait a minute. Just where is this concert?" I asked. The Object replied, "Nissan Pavilion," to which I could only respond, "Oh, fuck no. I don't go there. You guys have a good time."
I don't go to the Nissan Pavilion. I have never been to the Nissan Pavilion, and yet I have no doubts that I would abhor the experience. Driving by, I've seen the traffic snarled up for miles and miles and known deep in my heart that the Nissan Pavilion would make me nothing short of miserable. I've been told that my close-mindedness is preventing me from seeing some choice concerts, but those opinions are wrong.
For those of you who don't know, the Nissan Pavilion is a special portal to hell located just off Route 66 in Upper Elevated Bumblefuck, VA. Sometimes Mephistopheles needs to raise funds, so he convinces bands to hold concerts there by telling them that it is an environmentally-
friendly concert venue. Naturally, people who believe that sitting in a car for two hours somehow helps global warming, much like people who believe that putting polar bears on the endangered species list is racist, are highly susceptible to devilish trickery and/or willing to say anything for a piece of that giant Exxon Mobil pie. Somehow, Thom Yorke fell for it ('ware the side effects of meloncholia, kids).
The concert went down last Sunday as DC was in the throes of a Nor'easter. Does a storm have to come from the Northeast to be a Nor'easter? If so then this was probably more of a Mid'ester. Either way, there was flooding and hail involved. I spent the evening curled up on the couch with my girlfriend, watching delightfully bad movies, and slurping homemade lentil soup and rice pudding made from scratch. The Object, who left the house around 5 p.m., texted me around 9:30 to say that he had just gotten in. I believe two and a half of those hours were dedicated to driv-dling along 66, and two of those hours were dedicated to standing in the driving rain to go through a poorly managed security line. When he finally got it, he discovered that the only alimentary comfort was soggy popcorn and that to slake his thirst, he'd have to plunk down ten bucks for a shitty beer. Another text buzzed at 11:01, saying that they were leaving. He finally rolled in the door around 1 a.m., sodden and defeated. So, for roughly 90 minutes worth of music, he suffered through about 720 minutes of sheer misery.
Sounds not unlike material for a Radiohead song, no?
In any case, the next day, another friend of mine reported that part of her group hadn't even gotten in. They had supremely VIP expensive seats, which ostensibly included VIP parking, which didn't evidently exist. Apparently, one of the roads was closed due to flooding, and parking management detoured cars either ad dexteram, allowing people in, or ad dexteram, on the road back home. I'm not making this up. The whole thing sounds like an awfully biblical powertrip, whatwith the flooding and the judging.
So no refunds were issued to the legions of hapless slobs who didn't get in, albeit Thom Yorke evidently dedicated a song to them, which is close to getting your hundreds of bucks back, right? But this news just in: those fans who were turned away can get a lawn seat at a concert in New Jersey. So, to recap, to make up for the hell of sitting on 66 for four hours, those shut out from the puddly gates are being rewarded with the chance to sit on I-95 for eight hours. 'Ware the karma police, event organizers...
So, my close-mindedness about Nissan Pavilion prevented me from being subjected to a flood, a pneumonia relapse, and $10 beers. Blessed are those who see and don't believe.
Photo Credit Here!