"We're a gathering of fuckups and misfits and people that don't belong, but we belong right here."
-- - James Hetfield, Metallica
Her name was Susan and she was the outcast of the second grade. Diagnosed by our classmates as having "cooties" she was deemed "untouchable" lest she spread her "infection." It was not long before I joined Susan in her banishment.
I wonder if the second-grade version of myself completely understood the consequences of these actions. I would like to think that I did and acted anyway, but truthfully my budding sense of justice was intermingled with a mixture of social awkwardness and a propensity towards contrarianism. One day I decided to play with Susan during lunch and instantly caught the "cooties."
Traveling through my school years other outcasts eventually came together to form a peer group. By Junior High, this included an odd combination of burgeoning burnouts and nerds. The rebel John and brainy Brian from the Breakfast Club would have already been acquainted with each other in our group. Ally Sheedy's Alison would have also hung out with us at lunchtime but would not have been included in after-school plans.
Within this peer group, my musical pallet began to expand. My Junior High friends introduced me to Rush and the genius of Neil Peart. Entering High School, Motley Crue, Quiet Riot, and Def Leppard were embraced. As those groups were accepted into the mainstream, heavier bands like Anthrax and Metallica emerged.
Expressing support for these bands allowed us to embrace our outsider status. While others looked down on these artists as producing noise they could not understand, we proudly wore their T-shirts, almost daring them to laugh at our choices. Seeing someone else wearing them provided a connection to instant camaraderie. Rejected by outsiders, we now had a group where we belonged.
Walking up to Lumen Stadium in Seattle it was clear that our group is much bigger than I ever would have imagined the first time I heard Metallica. It was still hours before the first notes would be played and the plaza was already filled with people waiting to get through security.
Having traveled from Los Angeles to see this last stop on the tour before it headed down to Mexico, I was unfamiliar with the stadium but fellow fans and the staff were helpful. This was important because I was attending the concert with my wife, Nicole, who uses a wheelchair due to her progressing MS, and my two daughters who are on the severe end of the autism spectrum. For all three, this would be their first Metallica experience.
Following directions to the accessible entrance, we hit a dead end as the ramp we needed to traverse the curb was blocked by the barriers erected to control the merchandise line. As I paused to look for another route other fans took the initiative to help. Before I knew it, the physical barrier had been moved and the people in line moved out of the way. To others, metal fans may seem angry and anti-social, but the eagerness to help did not surprise me. This is a community and we look out for our fellow outsiders.
Part of the culture of this community is the Mosh Pit. To the outsider, it seems like chaotic violence, but there are rules, the most important of which is "if someone falls, pick them up." As I watched the multiple pits form on the field from my perch high up on the "Summit" section of the stadium during opening act Pantera's set, adherence to this rule was evident as the wild abandon would pause to help someone up. After a brief check on his condition, the chaos would resume.
With the opening acts out of the way (two different ones for each of the two nights), Metallica prepared to take the stage. The crowd was hyped, particularly on the second night when a "wave" rode through the stadium at least a dozen times. With the stage in the middle of the field, the band was in plain site as they entered as AC/DC's It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll) blared from the speakers. The lights went out as the song ended and the strains of The Ecstasy of Gold, Metallica's long-time entrance music, filled the stadium.
As Metallica prepared to play their first note, I felt a wave of emotion. Like going to church, a Metallica concert is a celebration of community. No matter how quickly the lyrics fly by, the audience proudly sings along in full participation mode. For two-plus hours, the real world fades away.
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