Every man for himself.

Have you heard of Ghost? Some friends of mine introduced me to their music last year. Ghost are this very over the top, dramatic rock band. Some call them metal, some call them doom metal, I don’t really care, I just like it a lot. I am Catholic and there is nothing that a bad catholic girl likes more than stuff that is naughty! I enjoy enjoying it while I am guilty about enjoying it! WHOA WUT? It draws heavily from religious themes, images and ideas- all with a satanic flare. YIKES!

There are lots of theories about the lead singer and the band, but I mean, c’mon… this is just a fantastic gimmick!



(Please don’t send me to Hell, God. I mean…at least not for this.)

So Ghost- It is just fun and campy and tickles all of my naughty no-no spots- culturally, spiritually and theatrically. I mean, what was the last show that you went to that they burned frankincense at…?

That’s what I thought.

Anyway, Papa Emeritus III and The Nameless Ghouls are on tour and they made a stop right here in Detroit, MI. My friends let me know they were coming and we went to see them. As we munched on truffle fries and drank artisanal beer a few blocks from the venue before the show started, my friends said “We’ll meet out front after the show, once we get in, it’s every man for himself. Get as close as you can as fast as possible.”

Well, that was a great idea, but when we arrived, there was a line at least two blocks long. It was incredible! People dressed up as Papa, there were a couple of kids in the crowd and it was a sold out show. It was well past the 7:30 start time, we worried that we wouldn’t get in time to get a good spot, wondering if we’d miss part of the show.

After about 30 minutes out in the early autumn night, we were in and scoping out our places. Opening act played an exceptionally long time. FINALLY after they finished, Ghost took the stage.  Papa is a true showman and he dominated! The Nameless Ghouls did their part and they were TIGHT. It was really a sight to see five people in devil masks with NO MOUTH HOLES play their asses off for two hours and a singer who talks to the audience with a fake Italian accent all the while in a goofy mask that looks like an old man with a painted skull face. It’s blasphemously dramatic; I can’t help but eat it up!

If you have GHOST, you have everything….”

As a Mexicana who likes rock music, I was surprised at the number of people of color in the audience. Surprised and pleased, I’ve been going to shows since I was about thirteen years old and the POC at a rock show in the Michigan area are few and far in between. No matter, I tend to make quick friends with those around me and that was the case here. I chatted a bit and made my way towards the stage, as close as possible. I was headed towards the front! So ready to throw my bra on stage! JK, JK! I would never throw my expensive bra on stage!

Ahem. Anyway.

Now, cultural things aside… being a female at a show with more men than women, oh goodness, that’s a whole ‘nother ball game. I am only 5’ 5’’ and there have been kind men who let me up front, allllll the way to the barricades (praise you, you are made of saffron) and there have many flirty men, there are butt humpers (you elbow them in the face with a quickness) and then there are creepers disguised as nice guys, such as the one I encountered at Ghost.

It started off great- like I said, I’m short and he offered to change places with me so I could have a clearer view of the show.

I can't see.

I can’t see.

He put his hands on my shoulder and my elbow, ushering me from his right to left side I found no foul play in this and continued enjoying the show in the place he was so kind to allow me to exchange with him. Soon enough, some guys tried to start a mosh pit, and I am not a teenager anymore, I see a pit forming and I want to get away. I spent a lot of money on getting my teeth fixed…I have a bad hip, I had only JUST had my health insurance ONE DAY. I’m SO GOOD on the moshing. My fellow concert goer saw me freak out and offered to switch back with me again. ‘Preciate ‘cha, friend! I sure did switch with him, too. This time, he put his hands on my shoulder and my hip to move me from his left to his right.

And then, he went from my hip to my butt, sort of brining me close to him. And then he was like, patting my butt. Patting and squishing, squishing and patting.

Like, I have a lot of real estate back there; I realize this, but FUCK MAN.

could u not

This was all suuuuper ackwaaaaaaaard and for a hot second, I wondered if maybe I was over reacting, because it’s real tight quarters at a show. But no, I got groped by some idiot at a fake satanic rock show. UGHHHHHHHH.

I had a fleece tied to a small purse. I adjusted said purse across my body and it just happened to push his hand away. He knew what he was doing, he knew what I was doing and he was smart enough to move his hand. As soon as that happened, he aborted mission and went into the pit. Oh yeah, what a loss, you wiener. Go get a concussion.

I tried to enjoy the rest of the show, but at that point, I was shaken. I looked for my friends, I could not see them. I receded back into the area with the group of people I met at the beginning of the show. When the shoves of the guys in the pit rippled through the group, we locked arms and we sang along to the rest of the songs. Ghost played their super famous cover, did an encore, the lights came on and we said goodbye.

It wasn’t enough to put me off of shows or anything, but yeeeeuch. Why do people have to do that? THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.


2 thoughts on “Every man for himself.

  1. Pingback: Never trust a big butt and smile- that girl is poison. | ¡Ay Esperanzita!

  2. Pingback: The monsters are our friends.  | ¡Ay Esperanzita!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s