The unlikely foursome of Mark I., Mandy B., Jepsonian and myself hit the Rage Against the Machine show at Starlake about 10 years ago. This was a rowdy crowd. Great tailgating atmosphere. Jepson was surprised by the attendance. I was not. We somehow managed to snag one of the boxes in the reserved seating area. For some reason, they didn't try to kick us out. Usually, they can be pretty persistent. Wu Tang Clan opened but I recall very little of their performance. The lights went down and Rage came out. The whole ampitheatre really went nuts. Stray bodies were charging in from the lawn area. Usually, people try to be pretty discreet when they sneak into the seats. You look for a moment when the security is distracted or the usher guy is showing someone to their seats. Not this time. These mororns would come running down the hill and hurdle themsleves over the barrier. One of the security guys resembled Fuzzy the Bear, but much taller and lankier. Anyway, he spotted some cro-magnon dude and went after him. I had my doubts about whether he'd succeed. Sure enough, Fuzzy emerges from the pit area. He's dazed and confused and it looks like he got his nose broken. Blood streaming down his face as the other security guys help him off. There's a good lesson in there - if you're only getting paid minimum wage, don't try to be a hero.
On the way out of the lot, I tried to weave through traffic to get to the front. I accidentally scraped this one guy's Imapala. I jumped out of the car, explained how sorry I was, told him we didn't need the cops coming and handed the guy 70 bucks. It was all the money I had on me. I think he was amazed that I offered anything. The actual damage probably cost a few hundred. I jumped back in the car and took off in the other direction. Everyone in my car looked at me like I was nuts. Jepson said, "How'd you get away with that." I responded, "Let's get the fucka outta here."