I save this PREVIEW/SAMPLE of \m/ to the very last.  And the last is in my opinion, one of my favorite sections I’ve written in the story. 

I keep saying this over and over - I am in fact about done going through the beast…

***

Buenafest was a weekend event at the tail-end of July for the city of Buena Heights, located between Main Street and Dodge Park Rd.  The early years of Buenafest consisted of a few stands of local arts and crafts, and a few local bands would perform for free at designated beer tents.  Since then, it expanded.  A stage was built near Dodge Park.  The local bands turned to big names like Foreigner, REO Speedwagon, and Starship with Mickey Thomas (the city officials still kept their word to the city, making Buenafest a FREE annual event to look forward to in the middle of the summer).  The arts and crafts stands reach out to out-of-state vendors, hopeful to make some money off the city’s event.  In recent years, a rip-off carnival had taken over majority of Dodge Park’s presence during Buenafest, attracting teeny bopper galore.  

          It never occurred to me during the many spiels I made to the group, where exactly would be the spot to set up our instruments and play as if we were invited to the shindig.  I imagined the best place for us would be where all the traffic would be, which was simple, at the carnival.  But then I scratched that, thinking how cluttered it would be.  I wanted an open area where we could set up, play to a small following, and let the crowd come to us - to what Bob Marley would describe as, we ‘stirred it up.’

          Andrew hinted that the Buena Heights Library, which was precisely where the arts and crafts stands start at, might be a better choice for us, since not a lot of activity goes on over there, and it would be easy to set up, play, then leave in peace once we are done.  I didn’t care for that idea.  The library is also conveniently located right next to the police station.  It could be just my paranoia, but performing near the cop-shop is not the wisest spot. 

Sara’s boyfriend, Chris Malack, drove us to the nearest parking spot, a subdivision a block or two from the library. 

          I am not sure how I felt about Chris the first moment I met him.  They say first impressions are everything.  My impression of him wasn’t too high, and that is a pun there, since he smelled like weed.   He wore a faded Slayer shirt, jean shorts and talked like a stoner Keanu Reeves.  I was a little bothered Sara didn’t really speak much about Chris when we jammed and chilled together in Andrew’s studio.  Maybe she wanted to keep her love life separate from her band life, but it did hit a nerve with me that she never told us (or at least me).  I never really had a romantic interest in Sara.  Sure, she was pretty in her little bad-ass emo-ish kinda way.  But there was no real attraction between us.  From what I can tell, Andrew treated her about the same: a good friend, nothing more.  So it didn’t bother me that Sara was dating someone else.  It just bothered me that she never told me.   

          Chris had been a lot of help, though.  I mean, he offered to drive us.  He helped with the gear.  And the little bit he chatted with us, he was into the stuff we were all into, and he knew music quite well.  That was a plus, I guess. 

The band wasn’t exactly pleased with the final spot I decided, but they went along with it.  We walked all the way from where we parked to the main stage attached to Dodge Park (which was roughly half a mile), and passed the stage to the grass area where people sat and stood during the concert.  The headliner for the Friday evening (second day of the three-day festival): Ten Inch Pink Rats in the Attic, a mediocre cover band of Aerosmith. The band is at best, a third-rate bar band, with a front-man that sounds nothing like Steven Tyler.  I’m not sure why after several successful years of big names, Buena Heights decided to hire cover bands to headline their annual festival.   Oh well.  We were going to make it even more difficult for the headlining band. This, as it turned out, was another signature of Outsiders, though we didn’t know it at the time!

          I wanted to set up as far from the stage as possible.  The show didn’t start for an hour, so we had time to set up and perform.  We were under some trees.  I brought my red guitar.  Kelly brought her keyboard she played during the Talent Show gig.  Sara brought her black bass she performed during her audition (and has played ever since).  Andrew couldn’t bring his entire drum kit (would’ve been nice), so he condensed his set to just a bass drum, hi-hat stand and a cymbal.  He also brought his little seat. 

          We all either carried or wheeled our equipment to the designated spot.  We started to set up after a few gulps from everyone.  We were nervous, that was for sure!  

          There were a good handful of people that planted themselves on the grass facing the stage.  A few were around us in the very back, curious as to what we were doing, but they didn’t say anything to us.

          It took us a few minutes to get everything set.  We were stationed near the bathroom.  Without anyone really noticing, I unplugged the vending machine that was outside the bathrooms.  I then plugged in our amps.  I looked around and no one seemed to notice.  That was a good sign.  It was now time to draw attention.

          Here goes nothing…!

I strummed my guitar with the soft start of Rush 'La Villa Strangiato.'  I felt that should be the very first song we use to introduce ourselves to the city spectators.          After about a minute of indulgent guitar playing, Kelly came to the rescue with her keyboard cue.  Andrew soon after followed his cue on drums.   Sara completed the noise level with her bass.  

          The small gathering of people increased to a huge following.  People circled around us, curiosity written on their faces.  They weren’t sure if they should cheer on or stare in puzzlement.  'Who are they?’ one person mouthed as we got into the midsection of 'La Villa Strangiato.'  'They aren’t scheduled to be here, so what the hell was going on?’ another person mouthed. 

          This was another good sign.  Six minutes into our performance and we weren’t kicked out yet!

          I felt confident with my Iron Maiden Brave New World tour shirt on.  I can tell the rest of the band felt confident too.  This was the first time Sara was included in our band in front of an audience.  She was more ecstatic than I was, with her Rob Zombie Hellbilly Deluxe shirt on, and her eyes gazing upon all the people, watching us play.  She even stuck her tongue out at me, giving me that, 'fuck you for being right’ face.  

We received applause by the audience around us as soon as we finished 'La Villa Strangiato.'  I got a high from it and without even a moment of thought, unstrapped my guitar and flung it up into the air.  Everyone around us must’ve thought I was nuts, because they all backed up a few feet, unsure why I did such a stunt, but the band knew exactly what I was up to, and kept on jamming without being told to.  I caught my guitar and strummed 'Smoke on the Water.'  I then threw the guitar back up into the air, Kelly filled the missing notes, and we played the first minute of the song everyone and their grandmother knew.   The audience grew around us.  We had them.  We had them all!  We were the master and they were the puppets.  We could’ve played that song for the occasion, but instead, I started fretting my fingers and strummed Aerosmith’s classic gem, 'Dream On.'  I suspected Ten Inch Pink Rats in the Attic would be playing that song as if it was part of a checklist, but Andrew thought it would be humorous to play a better version of the song, knowing Mama Kin would screw it up. 

          In our practice sessions, we all rehearsed the song with me singing, then with Sara.  She sounded better.  She had a soulful sound that I couldn’t manage (my vocals sounded more like a choppy version of Dio’s cover to 'Dream On,’ which was fine, I guess, but I liked Sara’s interpretation better).

The entire crowd went nuts, and the amount of bodies around us grew from 25, to 50, to at least 100+.  Local celebrity, The Spaghetti Man, was spotted nearby, giving us thumbs up and doing his 80s-style dance moves to our music.  Once we got through 'Dream On,’ I shouted out loud:

          “Thank you, everyone!  We are The OUTSIDERS!”

          At that point, the people in front of us started chanting:

          “OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!”

          The people behind those people started chanting as well, and it was a chain reaction to the back of the crowd.  I looked over the crowd, police and city officials at the stage area, scratching their heads over the ruckus where we were playing.  I shot a glanced to the band, giving that nod of, 'one more?'  They all nodded their head in return.  I shouted to crowd before us:

          “You guys want to hear one more?”

          Everyone yelled back:

          “YEAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

          I think this was the first time excitement spread all-over Buenafest.  People from the carnival part of the fest began walking over to the crowd surrounding us.  The city officials and police started to walk toward us too.  I thought no way in Hell they would interrupt us during a song.

          We wanted to work in a new melody, just for this occasion, similar to what we had done with the 'Paranoid’ melody.  We spent a week prior to this night arranging a piece that would most definitely gain the interest we needed.

          I led into the tune with my guitar, strumming the intro to Scorpions 'The Zoo,’ and the band followed along.  A good majority of the crowd recognized the classic, and started moving to the music.  At that point, we switched it up and started playing Korn 'Freak on a Leash.'  Things got intense in the crowd, with the kids our age screaming and yelling and about ready to start a mosh-pit.  We knew if we continued with that song for a great length of time, it would be the end of our short-lived music career (though it would make us infamous, for sure). 

          We quickly switch to one of our personal favorites, the midsection of Pink Floyd’s 'Comfortably Numb.'  I tried to duplicate some of David Gilmour’s guitar playing licks to his top-notch solo he had done on the live Pulse album.  I think he would’ve be proud of my rendition.  The crowd seemed to enjoy it, at least.  

          We ended our melody (and set) with a condensed version of Aerosmith 'Kings and Queens.'  That was my own suggestion, since I’m sure Ten Inch Pink Rats in the Attic wouldn’t be playing it (Hell, Aerosmith rarely plays it live themselves, which is a shame, it’s a great fucking song).   Sara and I took turns on the vocals.  People responded to that with cheers of delight. 

Once we were done playing, and the audience knew our set was over, there was ear-piercing applause with the even louder chant of, 'OUTSIDERS! OUTSIDERS! OUTSIDERS!'  I had to close my eyes and reopen them to see if this was a dream, or was it actually happening.  In the movie Almost Famous, the phrase 'it’s all happening’ kept reoccurring throughout the film.  I now know why. 

          Sometimes in life, incredible moments happen which inspire one to pinch themselves, just to make sure that the moment is real.  In those great moments, you just have to go along with it. For a few moments, Styx 'The Grand Illusion’ was playing in my head while I envisioned the cheering and clapping was on mute.  That’s what the scene looked like to me, a grand illusion. Everything was in slow-motion at that exact moment in time, but the entire event ended as soon as it began.  I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but, 'it’s all happening!’

I looked at Andrew, Andrew looked at Kelly, Kelly looked at Sara, Sara looked at me, and we all nodded in both disbelief and overwhelming glee, and took the cue of bowing to our appreciative audience we just earned.  The police just stood there, unsure if they should book a group of kids crashing Buenafest in front of the entire city’s view.  The city officials, including Mayor Steven Gale, were all whispering in each others’ ears.  They were probably asking each other who the Hell we were, how the Hell did we set up without their knowledge, and how the fuck are they going to nail us in front of everyone. 

          I decided it was best to say to the crowd:

          “Thank you, everyone!  We are Outsiders.  We weren’t invited to play here tonight.  But we thought we should give fake Aerosmith a few lessons in rock 'n’ roll!" 

          Laughter could be heard from the crowd. 

          "Well, anyway. We should get going before we get arrested for rockin’ out at Buenafest!   Thank you, again.  And enjoy the train wreck tonight!”

          I raised my hand in the air, and gave the \m/ sign.  Everyone - women, children, men, seniors, teenagers - EVERYONE raised their hand in the air and gave the same \m/ salute in return. It was unreal! People knew exactly what it meant.  It wasn’t the Devil’s sign, as some may think. It wasn’t a gang sign, or anything negative. It meant 'rock.’ It meant 'rock 'n’ roll.’ It meant 'rock on.’

The crowd began to shrink once police and city officials approached where we were standing.  It was a good time as any to disassemble our gear and jet.  

          We weren’t prepared to face the authorities if and when we would be stopped, so our nerves were on the highest level possible.  I only assumed that there was no way they would arrest a group of minors in front of a large crowd, with our only crime was playing music for free.

          Mayor Gale paced toward us with a female city official. I couldn’t really tell from his facial expression what kind of mood he was in. He was one of those stiff politicians that left emotions out of public appearances. Two cops were trailing behind them, trying to keep up.   He waved to us, and surprised me by giving us a compliment:

          “That was…nice playin’ there.  Especially you, son.  He eye-balled me.   "Loved that guitar-trick you did in the air.”

          “Ahh…thank you” I slowly mustered.

          The mayor then looked over to the female city official, I guessed to signal her to say something. 

          “We are sort of in a pickle right now.” she said.  “A band dropped out on us for tomorrow night, so we need a band to cover the 7:00 to 8:00 time slot on the main stage.”

          She pointed at the stage in front of us.  I really wanted to say something sarcastic after her Captain Obvious motion, but held it in when she then said:

“Would you guys be interested in playing for us?”

          I didn’t even have to say yes or glance at the rest of the band.  Andrew, Kelly and Sara said YES out loud at the same time. 

          “Great!  We can discuss payment and everything tomorrow.  Rehearsal is at 3:00.  We have to approve your set-list first.  Oh, and you’re opening up for Who Made Hell."  

          I assumed that was an AC/DC cover band, kind of hard rock-ish and risqué for Buenafest in my mind.  Then again, I remember reading somewhere last year in the Buena Heights News that the city was going to try to make it edgy for this year.  I think if they really wanted to shake things up, they could’ve hired a Norwegian death metal band, or a GWAR cover band.  Now that’s edgy for you!

We parted ways with the mayor and his underling after formal handshakes. We gathered up our gear and took the long walk back to Chris’ vehicle.  He drove us to the nearest Big Boy and we treated ourselves while discussing the disbelief of what the fuck took place, and what the fuck we were going to do tomorrow.  A debate about the set-list then started.  Everyone looked to me as the leader, when nobody would decide what we should open our set with.  I thought we did great with what we had played earlier today.  I liked the idea of opening a set with an instrumental piece - something to hook the audience with early on, giving them the hint that they weren’t seeing just an ordinary band.  I wanted a different song than what we just played.  I wanted something different.  That was our theme: different!

          Since we were the opening act for an AC/DC cover band, I thought maybe, just maybe, the audience would get a kick out of us stealing some of their thunder.  A little, 'dirty deeds’ toward Who Made Hell! 

          It then just hit me!

          "Kelly, how fast can you learn to play a guitar tab on the keyboard?” I asked.  

          Everyone looked at me with puzzled faces. 

          “How fast did I learn to do that 'Smoke on the Water’ trick?” she answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

          “Touché.” I said.  I then asked if it was too late for everyone to do a little bit of practice at Andrew’s studio.  Everyone was geeked, but me, most of all!  

The next day, we arrived at Buenafest early with our gear.  Chris once again helped us with the transportation.  He was wearing a ripped-up NIN shirt.  Since the drive from Andrew’s studio to the parking near the stage on Dodge Park (we were allowed to park up close, since we were part of the lineup now), Sara and Chris kept up arguing the Trent Reznor vs. Marilyn Manson debate: Who Was Better__? I didn’t think there was a debate between them.  Apparently, there was.  The rest of the band kept to themselves, not wanting to partake in the argument.  For how much Sara and Chris argued, it’s a wonder how they even got along in the first place!   Whatever made them happy, I guess.

I noticed on the billboard of bands that would appear during Buenafest, a band named Bodine Vengeance was scratched out, and our band, Outsiders, was scribbled in for the 7 P.M. time slot. 

          Bodine Vegeance?  Where have I seen that name before?  Hmmm….

          Before I could answer my own question, we were ushered toward the backstage by stage assistants.  We then were greeted by the same lady that we met yesterday.  She asked us for our set-list.  I took a crumbled piece of paper from my pocket, straightened it up a little, and handed it to her.  She glanced it over and said:

          “We may have an issue over your opening and closing.  You do realize who is headlining tonight?”

          “Yes, we do.  We thought they might appreciate our little salute,” I sternly said.

          She took another glance at our set-list.  She didn’t seem to object to anything. 

          Cool.

          “We will go through everything during rehearsal, which will be at 3.  You are early, so you can go walk around for a bit.  The stage crew can set your gear up.   We only ask that you come back 20 minutes to 3 to go over payment and have you sign a contract, formality stuff. Okay?  Great.”

          She then turned around and walked back to the stage area.  A group of guys that had to be in their late 20s approached us and pointed at our gear.  I nodded.  They took it, leaving us wondering what to do with the time we had to kill.  

We all walked around for a bit, passing vendor tents.  Tye-dyed everything (shirts, hoodies, purses, etc-etc), cool lookin’ 'LIVIN’ THE DREAM…’ and knock off 'WASTIN’ AWAY’ signs, MADE IN MOTOR CITY shirts for the good suburban folks that took pride that they lived near Detroit without actually living in Detroit.  Sam’s Club had a spot with their cult-card renewal fliers.  Metro Times and Buena Heights News had their own tents with subscription information.  There was also a couple of radio station tables set up.  WCSX.  89X. And the old fart station, WOMC.  I was disappointed that WRIF didn’t show up. 

          In the center of the event area, TicketLord.com had their fancy information table for upcoming events, fees included.  Never crossed my mind then that TicketLord would become our band’s biggest headache years to come. Then again, it also never crossed my mind that our band would get anywhere beyond kindling a fan-base at Buenafest.

          As I was walking around, I started to realize the joy of simplicity.   I remember going to Buenafest as a kid.  It was nothing like what I was seeing.  It had turned from a fun, two-day event during a midsummer weekend, showcasing local arts and crafts, to the very essence of corporate America.  I guess present Buenafest was bought and paid for with every ©opyright sponsor that wanted a piece of the pie. 

          Oh well.  We were lucky enough to be on the bill (even if it was a miraculous last minute offering).  No sense bitching about it. 

Once it got around the time for rehearsal, we all headed back.  Chris mingled in the crowd. 

          Our gear was all set for us on stage.  We entered the stage from the back area and it felt unreal to actually be up there. Even though there were maybe ten people (at the most) who were chilling in front of the stage, I had goosebumps just standing there for all to see.  We approached our designated instruments and started the tedious sound check before a guitar tech that was standing right near me stopped us and said:

          “That won’t be necessary.  We already did that for you.”

          “Wow, thanks man!” I said with excitement. 

          Sound check?!  Now we hit the big league!

          “That’s my job, dude!"  He rolled his eyes at me, and walked away.  I guess we were ready to play.  I looked over at Kelly, giving her a nod for her cue.  She took the hint, and had her fingers touch her keyboard.  She had it tuned for the piano sound.  A riff that would be recognizable at bars and hockey games could be heard from her piano playing.  It was the start of AC/DC’s 'Hells Bells.'    Since there was no such thing as an acoustic AC/DC tune (from my knowledge at least), I had thought of creating one.  The band had made their career out of repeating the same four guitar riffs, but it was time to hear a different interpretation of one.   It was also a way to give Who Made Hell a run for their money!   I didn’t realize though at the moment we practiced, and even during rehearsal, the negative (and positive) impact we were going to make. 

          The small crowd that was gathered in front of us got a kick out of it. 

          AWESOME! 

          We went through our hour-long set-list without any hiccups.  The last song we played, AC/DC’s 'Thunderstruck,’ started out as a mellow cover, with Kelly’s keyboards leading the song along.  I carried the rest of it with my red Fender, imitating Angus Young’s obnoxious guitar playing.  

          I don’t want to be full of myself, but we were the shit, plain and simple.  The ten (or so) people multiplied to about 50 (or so), all clapping and cheering us on.  For a rehearsal, we sure made an impression.  Perhaps we were still a conversation piece from yesterday. 

We left the stage for Who Made Hell.  They took their turn with rehearsal.  I stuck around, curious about them.  It would be sweet to hear 'Let There Be Rock’ and 'Those About to Rock.'  I was also anxious to see if they would play 'Big Balls.'  A little risqué for a family-friendly free concert.  At any rate, I was never a big AC/DC fan, but I do have my share of favorite songs.

          What I saw was anything but AC/DC.  The front man sounded like a third-rate Iggy Pop meets Joey Ramone.  Not only was his voice far from the range of both Bon Scott and Brian Johnson, but he sounded mediocre, period.  Adding insult to injury, the guitars were off-key.  AC/DC isn’t exactly the most complex piece of music around (even to hard rock standards), but my - fucking - god; how could you proclaim yourself a cover band and be so fucking bad at it.  They made Ten Inch Pink Rats in the Attic look like Juilliard graduates by comparison.

          I felt confident about our band.  We were going to own the night.

A few hours had passed, and we were about ready for show-time.  We rarely talked as we waited.  We were both excited and nervous.  From the stage, music could be heard of local legends.  I noticed the same four songs were being looped: Alice Cooper’s 'School’s Out,’ Bob Seger’s 'Mainstreet,’ Grand Funk Railroad’s 'We’re an American Band,’ and the censored version of Kid Rock’s 'Cowboy.'  

          At the end of 'Cowboy,’ city officials came on stage to introduce themselves for the 100th time that weekend.  They all took turns naming off all the corporate sponsors, reminding the audience (who increased by a good couple hundred) that Buenafest was bought and paid for by the various ©opyrighted logos that were spotted throughout the weekend event.  I couldn’t help rolling my eyes, back and forth, with each sponsor that was mentioned.  Mayor Gale had his own introduction with a little spiel about how proud he was with the Buenafest turnout; everyone did a good job putting the event together, and bullshit-bullshit-bullshit.  He then introduced our band, explaining to the crowd how we arrived the previous day with an outstanding response from the crowd, and how he personally asked us to play tonight, filling in for a band that was scheduled to play, but for unforeseen circumstances, couldn’t make it. 

          The crowd cheered.  Everyone left the stage, leaving Outsiders - us - with the freedom to rock out.   We all took a moment to reflect, taking it all in.  We felt like we were on top of the world.  At least I was.  I had my tie-dye Pink Floyd Animals T-shirt on, and my black guitar was strapped around me.  It was time to rock the night. 

          I looked over at Kelly and nodded.  She nodded back at me, knowing it was her cue.  She stood behind her keyboard and started playing a piano version of 'Hell’s Bells.'  After 30 seconds, the band joined in.  The crowd was into it.  It must have been the first time they heard a mellow AC/DC song before. 

          After the song was over, the crowd went nuts. 

          "OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!  OUTSIDERS!”

We went through our set quickly. We concluded the set with a melody of AC/DC’s 'Thunderstruck’ and 'Let There Be Rock.'  I ended the final song with a little improvised guitar salute to Angus Young, playing recognizable tunes as I was doing Young’s infamous little dance charade on stage.  I never practiced, so it was a little difficult not tripping, but I managed to pull it off.   The crowd flipped-the-fuck-out, chanting 'OUTSIDERS’ over and over.   People from the other side of the festival started migrating through the loud audience in front of us.  None of us were prepared for anything like it.  We were just kids, after all.   I mean, keep that in mind; we were just kids that luckily learned how to play like the professionals.  Maybe that was why we really appealed to people.

          We all looked at each other, tempted to play another song.

          Fuck it!

          I took my guitar and flung it up into the air.  'Smoke on the Water’ was the one song we didn’t include in our set.  The crowd was taken aback by my guitar trick.  Mouths wide open were seen on a lot of faces in front of me.  I continued with Kelly’s help, then strapped the guitar back on and started playing 'Paranoid.'  It was our signature song, after all.  Andrew went insane with his solo.  Even Sara got crazy with a few bass blips.   The city officials and backstage crew kept on yelling at us to stop playing, we were 'over playing’ our welcome.  The Buenafest audience didn’t think so. 

          After our set, I shouted toward the microphone:

          “BUENA HEIGHTS, YOU ARE AMAZING!  THANK YOU SO MUCH!  WE ARE OUTSIDERS!  WE HOPE TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

          I then partially sang:

          “ENJOY THE REST OF THE NIGHT!”

          I extended my arm in the air and gave Buena Heights the Devil’s horn.  Everyone in the audience took their arms in the air and gave me the same \m/ salute in return. It gave me shivers!  

          We all lined up in front of our instruments and bowed.  We earned a Titanic-sized 'OUTSIDERS’ chant from the ecstatic crowd.  It left us all with smiles on our faces.  Sara whispered in my ear:

          “Dude, you were right, you fucker!”

          She then laughed and extended her arm in front of me with her hand in the air, expecting me to do the same.  I do.  She slapped me the hardest high-five I’ve ever felt.  Her energy matched mine. 

We strolled backstage and found out from Mayor Gale himself that Who Made Hell left the premises with their gear.  I guess they weren’t happy with us.  I was curious which part they made them decide to leave: when we played their songs or due to the fact that we upstaged them. 

          Mayor Gale glared at us with his arrogant politician smile, and then proceeded to say while the crowd kept cheering for Outsiders:

          “Clearly, you won an audience.  I wish that wasn’t the case.  Rest assured, kids…”

          He raised his voice when he said, 'KIDS,’ making his point clear.  It was clear all right.

          “…you won’t be invited again to Buenafest.  So enjoy your 15 minutes now.”

          “Don’t you mean, 2 more hours?” I sarcastically said. 

          The rest of the band stared at me with wide eyes, wondering why I was challenging Mayor Gale.   Wasn’t it obvious?

          If looks could kill, he had murdered me at that very moment.  He adjusted his suit, then turned around and walked away toward the front of the stage.  We could hear the crowd quieting down as Mayor Gale walked on stage.  He addressed the crowd with the microphone, asking if everyone enjoyed Outsiders.   We heard a roaring loud cheer of applause.  It once again gave me goosebumps.  I glanced at the band.  I smiled at them.  They smiled back.  Sara had a happy tear in her eye.  This wasn’t the grand tour we all dreamed about at night, but fucking A - man - it was close.  There was a sense of pride amongst us all.  We knew it was going to be a long road ahead for the band, but this certainly was a highlight moment in our career. 

          Mayor Gale explained through the microphone to the crowd that Who Made Hell left unexpectedly.  There were a few boos that could be heard.  I don’t think the entire crowd was too devastated.  Who Made Hell sucked 'big balls.'  Everyone in the crowd knew it.  Buena Heights deserved better.

          The Mayor then asked (which I am sure was very hard for him to do) if the crowd would want to hear some more from Outsiders. 

          There was a few seconds of silence, which must have pleased the Mayor, before an overwhelming loud cheer  vibrated off the walls backstage.  A few moments later, Mayor Gale approached us.  He didn’t say one word to us, just passed us by.  We were greeted by a stage attendant, telling us to go back onstage.  We followed him with no set-list in mind, just rock in our souls.  With every footstep closer to the stage, the volume of the cheers got ear piercingly louder. 

          “Outsiders!"  "Outsiders!…”