Oh, the Weenie Roast

By j-ro

I went to the Weenie Roast in LA with some friends from college last weekend. I usually hate festivals. Festivals are full of fat sunburned people, mediocre bands, dirt, and over-priced beer. My friends had lawn seats though, and I wanted to see the Killers and Bloc Party, so we went. I bought a Budweiser hat (to avoid a sunburn), a 40oz, and 3 Sparks at 7-11 to pound on the way to the show. We bought a pack of cigarettes and rolled some tiny joints to use as barter in our attempt to turn our lawn seats in to front row tickets.

As soon as we got there, Bloc Party was playing on the side stage and they totally rocked. It was the first time that I’d actually seen them play, and Kele surpassed my expectations as a super hot front man. The kids in front of me just stood there, but I danced my ass of for the whole 20 minutes that they played. I’m not sure how much of it had to do with my Sparks buzz, but they were awesome!

After Bloc Party, the Mars Volta went on, and the crowd dispersed. We headed for the main stage, and found a spot where we could drink a few $10 beers and check out the main stage seating arrangements. We looked for the holes in security and spotted a top entrance where the guard was standing sideways, with her back to half of the entrance. We took turns walking purposely through the gate behind her. Once in the seated area, we made our way to the top isle, and took some seats. My friend Des decided to try flirting with a security guard to “make friends on the inside.” Its always good to have a security guard or two be able to recognize you as a seated-area ticket-holding citizen so that they are likely to let you back in if you happen to “lose” your ticket later.

I sat through My Chemical Romance and Jimmy Eat world looking for more holes in security. At the end of Jimmy Eat World’s set, we got kicked out of our seats by a security guard and the seats’ rightful owners. Luckily the security guard got another call and didn’t have time to toss us out. We kept walking pretending to rock out super hard to the end of Jimmy Eat World’s set. The guards in the next section didn’t even think to ask for our tickets, and we danced and head-banged our way all to the middle of the seated section.

Then I came to the realization that my bladder might explode, and I noticed just how tricky amphitheatre designers are. All of the bathrooms were located on the lawn level, so if I went to the bathroom, I might not be able to make it back to my friends. I needed to find someone with a ticket to borrow.

We looked around for some friendly-looking people who would be willing to let us borrow their tickets. There were no takers, so it was time to barter. I leaned over and asked some little stoner chick next to me if she smoked, I said that I’d give her a joint to borrow her ticket for a few minutes. She opened her mouth, and a mouth full of braces blinded me. She said no, that she was born with asthma, but sure I could borrow her ticket. Shit, I felt like an asshole. As my vision cleared, I realized that she couldn’t be more than 16 and her friends were even younger. She whispered in her friends’ ears, and they all handed over their tickets, asking for nothing in return.

We ran for the bathrooms, but the lines were so long that we were forced to find the nearest bushes. We got back just as the Killers were taking the stage. The Killers were great. I love boys with tuxedo jackets, eyeliner, and spastic dances. We climbed over seats until we were 2/3 of the way to the front of the seated area. Des climbed over the wall to the boxed seating at the end of the set, and that blew our cover. The security guard, who had been silently watching our antics for a while, came over and told us to get out of the seats, that they were worth $1000 and we had to leave. We got up and started to walk up the stairs, then managed to get lost in the crowd at the top of the seated section.

Audioslave just was coming on, and after a few minutes of sulking about how much better Rage and Soundgarden were than this crappy offshoot, it was time for another quest to the bathroom. We tried offering two of our friends as collateral for borrowing tickets, but after gross comments, we decided to just take our chances at getting back in to the seated area.
After using the facilities, we noticed that our favorite slacker security guard was on her break, so we rode a free Ferris wheel while we waited for her to get back. Being stoned + riding a rickety Ferris wheel operated by a guy with one front tooth and a maniacal laugh = bad for paranoia about dying. Luckily, we made it off the death trap alive, and our guard came back and was paying even less attention. We slipped in, and then slipped past the second security guard and his supervisor that was lecturing him about not paying enough attention. How ironic.

Now it was time for Motley Crue. I didn’t even realize that they were headlining until I got there, but I was excited. Tommy Lee was awesome on drums, but Vince Neil… what the hell was he doing? I remembered seeing some VH1 makeover show where he got plastic surgery and all kinds of work to prepare for the tour. He looked like shit. He sounded like shit. He looked like a bloated little Leprechaun jumping around the stage. But, it was Motley Crue. There were fire works and strippers and motorcycles. We walked down to the bottom seating level, but by that time in the night we didn’t have the energy to fight past the bleach-blond tattooed chicks to try to make it to the front row.

I felt like I had accomplished something though. We had lawn seats, but never once stepped foot on the lawn. And we didn’t get kicked out. Plus, I didn’t get sunburned.