Showing posts with label Kiss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kiss. Show all posts

Saturday, June 7, 2008

KISS; Part 2

Two hours to go til they opened the front gates for the KISS concert. I was selling ten dollar packs of PCP to my left and right, and smoking doobies in the middle. I started to blow an occasional cloud of smoke towards the rental cops positioned in front of the box office. I was a twelve year old punk on drugs. This was going to be a great night.

At 7:00pm the gates opened and I rushed in, right into the waiting arms of those rent-a-cops I had been teasing for the last hour. They pulled me into a makeshift booking station located behind the box office and started going through my pockets, relieving me of a special-roll, pre-encore spliff. I still had a few packs of angel dust in a plastic baggie tucked in my underwear. Thankfully, my Mom still outfitted me in tighty-whities, a safe storage spot for contraband. I was processed, had my picture taken, and walked out to a school bus with wired-up windows for safe keeping. As I heard the muffled sounds of the band onstage, I wondered if this would constitute grounds for discharge from the KISS army.

After the concert had been over for a little while, state police cars began taking the detainees out for the ride to the station in groups of two. In the back seat were my possesions in a plastic bag, including my Polaroid camera. The trooper was pretty easy going and let me document the journey with a few pictures. I still have them in an old photo album. The kid in the car with me was kind enough to snap a couple of pictures of me to show my friends in school. After being booked, I was given a phone call home. My Mother let them keep me in juvenile detention for the weekend to try and "scare me straight".

Friday, May 30, 2008

KISS

We bought our KISS tickets at record town in north Miami. It was 1976, and the band was on the verge of what became worldwide rock n' roll domination for the greasepaint foursome. David Linhart and myself listened to KISS Alive all Saturday morning and decided to get an early start towards the Hollywood Sportatorium, a pretty good sized arena located in the middle of nowheresville. I'd seen the Greatful Dead, Ted Nugent, Aerosmith, Foghat, and countless other groups play there, but seeing KISS, was something different. These guys had a dangerous edge that the others lacked. I was always a tag-along for the other shows, and this baby was all ours. I was a charter member of the KISS army, and I had one whole wall of my bedroom dedicated to their exploits. I had my Mother sew my KISS army patch onto the arm of my dungree jacket, just in case there was any speculation on the matter. Arriving early to the concert served two purposes; a better shot at a front row seat (the tickets were general admission), and a chance to practice my new sideline as a drug dealer.

I had befriended Ernie, a surfer/burnout dude about a month earlier. when I was invited to hang out at his apartment through a mutual pal. He was in his late 20s, and always had a group of teenage kids around at his place doing drugs and trying to act cool. He lived below his Dads office in a place that was adorned with black light posters, lava lamps, and a surfboard that had been dry-docked for quite some time. He was like a large version of Sean Penn's character from "Fast times at Ridgemont High". I started messing around with PCP at Ernies and jumped at the chance to be a junior distributer for him. It would mean free drugs for me and add a little cache to my resume. It might also pay for my KISS ticket. I got a batch from him the night before, and he showed me how to divide it into ten dollar portions. I figured there was great sales potential at the next evenings show.

David and I took the bus out to the Sportatorium and arrived after 1:00pm to an empty parking lot. In my previous visits, I'd never seen the place so desolate and uninviting. We were basically the first ones there. We found a trail in back of the building and smoked a little pot and snorted some PCP. That familiar buzzing sound echoed through our heads as we wandered back to the front section. There were now a few cars starting to pull up, and kids were getting dropped off by their parents, with faces painted like their favorite band members. I'm not sure we were ready for the experience of being fucked up on this drug and looking at people with their skulls made up in grotesque masks of evil. We decided to head to the front gate of the venue to ensure a head start on the rush for seating and try to generate some sales.

To be continued...