As I rest my body on the sinking, soft, red, velvet couch beside my best friend, Maya, all that ran through my head was the not only displaying of talents, but the unity that was about to happen in several hours. The horrid, stomach churning feeling that was going to enter me before the night was over made me shake with a roller coaster of excitement. The bright, blood-red walls of the collective that resides inside of The Che Café in La Jolla gave me a more excited feeling as I craved to scream the lyrics, “This Is What I Want.”
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Terry, Ted and Rymodee finished setting up their equipment, the fresh, warm and delightful smell of vegan cupcakes and cookies quickly faded and was replaced with a mixture of an odd, musty, ‘I’ve-been-on-tour’ and everyone else’s body odor scent, yet I didn’t even cringe. Instead, I smiled and took my place in the crowd, in the center front, as close as I could manage to get while my shins kissed the rather short front wall of the stage. Terry smiled as she said, “Hi, we’re This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb.” Followed by her proceeding to sing her lungs out, keep a fast pace on her bass while Rymodee did the same except with his guitar, and Ted pounded the wooden stick onto his dirty drum kit and followed along to the singing. My heart leapt, I bounced around, pushing and getting pushed while everyone screamed the lyrics with them. People piled on top of each other, kids hung from the rafters, everyone pushed to get to the microphone and I was no exception.
Sweat dripped off of my body and rubbed onto others, although, it didn’t matter at this point. The combination of everyone’s heat and odor seemed to combine, as a result, every window in the small venue fogged up, any and all fresh air was now eliminated, it was hard to breathe and my face grew green with a sick feeling. I couldn’t do a thing but smile and sing though. The music came to a halt as Ted and Terry announced that they had one more song. Loud, screeching voices protested from every corner and angle at this fact. After calming the crowd down, the words, “This next song is about punks taking over the world!” Terry yelled as my eyes bulged out, my heart raced, the widest smile I could manage quickly formed onto my face and I screamed my lungs out. The last song, ‘This Is What I Want’ started and everyone became one. And I swear, at that moment, all of our now hoarse and faintly voices, sweaty, tired, hyped up bodies, fists in the air and love for music combined. If it was possible, my eyes—no body, would have turned into hearts, resistant of letting this moment go.
