I heard the music as I parked. The Cheesefactory had a mini ramp inside, or so I heard. An indoor mini ramp in Idaho Falls is a big deal so everyone is talking about it, then again lies are not as big a deal in Idaho Falls and everyone spreads them too. The barbed wire topped gate between two warehouses is open.
“Come on, aren’t you excited?” “Not as much as you aparently.” “Well, I work nights. When you and everyone else are out with friends I’m working and when I get home after work everyone is sleeping.”
I could see a few friends and strangers in a giant circle pit through the gaps between a single row of party-goers. A loading dock serves as a makeshift stage as American Backdrop belts out Danzig covers or other songs that sound like Danzig. Destry sings everything in his Danzig voice.
Chad exits the doors behind the band. The silver capped cane contrasts the t-shirt, flannel, and black jeans. Dropping off the dock he hands his cane to a girl, winks and joins the flailing arms and exaggerated jog. I cannot see myself but I contort my face into the most menacing look I know. Banging my head against an invisible countertop for a moment until my head hurts a little. Of the 8 moshers I know 6, they are all friends and are the cool guys who go home with a new girl after every party. “Who are those guys?” Motioning toward the two guys I don’t know. “Um, I think they go to Bonneville.”
“Are you guys having a good time?”
Destry count’s off the next song and a few more guys join the mosh pit. I head bang some more to show I am hardcore. I reach for the buck knife wedged in my belt buckle.
“No, maybe the next song.” “What?” “Nothing”
The crowd half watches the band and half watching the mosh pit. I know how to mosh. I am cooler than the guys moshing. If they only saw me mosh they would be like, “Damn he is the king of moshing.” I bet if I moshed the band would want me to get on stage. I bet the band would want me to sing a song with them. I bet Destry would be like, “Dude, you are so bad ass you should join the band and just hang out so we can write songs about you.”
The next song starts up, Skulls by the Misfits. I dig out my pocket contents and hand them to my girl. “Hold these.” I reach for my knife and start to draw it then pause. I rock back and forth revving my engine like a motorcycle. I’m almost ready. I pull the knife from my belt buckle and hand it back. She grabs the handle. I contine rocking and headbanging. I’m almost ready to join and the song ends.
“Hey thanks everyone for “