Warped Tour And better – Creative Writing

I gazed up in amazement at the enormous steel arch which made up the railway bridge, which I, together with the other thousands of fans, was shuffling under making our way towards the vast expanse of open fields that constituted the concert arena. I hoisted myself onto the metal barrier enclosing the mass of people and slowly inched my way toward the make shift box office to collect my tickets. By the time I reached the box office it was eleven thirty and it was 100à ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½F. The midday sun was harsh and I could feel the heat cutting across my neck like a red hot rapier. The dust was incredible. The grass had been worn away by the thousands of shoes scouring it, causing a permanent haze of dust to envelope the crowd as they rushed into the field beyond. As I crumpled against a steel post forming a chain link fence, I peered down at my feet and noticed rivers of sweat cascading down my legs and evaporating into the haze. Every time I took a breath I felt an abrasive sensation in my throat, causing a painful scratching around my tonsils, which I eventually relieved by bringing up a ball of brown mucus which I spat out onto the dusty ground and rubbed into the earth with my foot. I got the tickets. Once past the tickets and through a series of security checks I ambled into centre of a cluster of around two hundred gazebos, all of them hung with eye catching decorations, selling a vast variety of music paraphernalia, however, I was looking for just one tent; the DRIVE-THRU RECORDS tent. Quickly I paced through serried ranks of displays until a glint of orange caught the corner of my eye and there in bold, black print were the words DRIVE-THRU RECORDS. I barged through the throng of people twisting and turning until I arrived at the stand and was greeted by my sister who had managed to obtain VIP entry to the venue. As I gazed over her shoulder I spied tables decked with musical memorabilia and perched on the edge of one of the tables was a large glass jug containing cool, clear water. Grabbing the jug I swigged the water down in two massive gulps and wiped my hand across my mouth licking the final few droplets from around my lips. Having been refreshed I continued my quest to find the stages, however it was cut short when a magnificent cheer erupted from my right. Spurred on by this roar of excitement I grabbed my friend and dragged him with me toward the noise. We burst through the line of the regimented gazebos and finally found ourselves in the crushing surge of people pressing towards the stage. Surveying the crowd we spied gaps and quickly manoeuvred our way between the bodies until we could squeeze through any further as it was just too packed. As the guitarists struck the first chords the crowd went wild, pulsating into life, jumping, waving, screaming and shrieking with delight. The atmosphere was electric injecting everyone with pure adrenaline and energy. The last note was twanged and like a switch it caused the horde of people to slowly flood out towards the tents and huddle around the stalls selling water. But not me, because, as if by magic, my sister appeared about 100 yards away. She was waving two thin slips of orange paper, trying to lure me towards her. I couldn't quite make out what the papers were, but I had a good idea. I signalled to my friend to head toward her. As we got closer the slips seemed to glow a much more vibrant orange and I knew exactly what they were; backstage passes. Like a deer, frozen in headlights, I stood in a trance as she handed us the passes to stick around our wrists. Once I was out of my own world, my sister and I snaked through the crowd towards the tour bus whilst my friend shuffled to the front of the crowd to watch the next band. As I stepped onto the tour bus (which my sister had been staying on for the last five weeks) I felt a blast of cool clean air hit my face and the bus almost felt cold as I felt the hairs on my arms prick up. My sister grabbed two bottles and chucked one to me. She introduced me to a few of the other people retreating from the heat and then we headed out. Over the last few weeks when my sister had been away whenever I spoke to her over the phone she would brag about how she was making friends with some of the famous people on tour. One of them being someone who I practically worshiped! And I was about to meet him. I stared in disbelief as a man who I have posters of on my wall waved and smiled at my sister. The man, Travis Barker, was under a gazebo (guarded by the biggest man I'd ever seen) behind the main stage. He was leant over a small box with pads which would light up and he would hit them with his drum sticks. My sister walked up to him while I followed trying to work out if it was dream. My sister introduced me to him and when he shook my hand it sent a shiver down my spine. My sister and I spoke to him for a while despite the fact I was so dumbstruck. Eventually we had to leave as he had to play so I got him to sign my hat even though I felt stupid asking and we headed back to the tour bus. The rest of the day seemed to go quickly after this in a blur of watching bands and staggering to the tour bus for replenishment. The last image I have of the day is looking back at all the people, the astonishing size of the whole field and how amazing Warped Tour had been, but it was nothing like looking down at my hat which was I was clutching in my hand.