It’s time for TMI Thursday, brought to you by LiLu. As she always says, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
Each time I came home, I always had a crazy story to tell my mom. I was tipped $50 once for wheeling a guy to his car after Josh Groban. I met Dave Matthews in the VIP parking lot. Someone tried to check in their cousin's ashes at the Cure concert (we also had a dog at Jessica Simpson and a bucket of chicken at Tim McGraw). I had some crazy old guy at Jimmy Buffett propose to me at least three times. As tiring and crazy as that job was, it was always entertaining and left me smiling.
Until the night I worked Ozzfest at Alpine Valley.
Now, Ozzfest is always a completely different animal from any other concert you would work. There was always the feeling of impending doom in the atmosphere until the last guest left. Although I worked a number of Ozzfests at Tweeter (attended them as well) I was never shocked or rendered speechless by the things I saw.
Sure, there were crazy, over the top fans that were never hugged enough as children. And you would no doubt find more ass cracks in the crowd than at the Olympic Swimming Finals. However! I did not know there was shit like this until the summer I worked at Alpine.
Take a minute to really soak those pictures in. I want them to simmer and fester in the darkest corners of your mind. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Good and scarred yet? Good.
Don't get me wrong! I am glad these women are comfortable enough in their own skin to walk around topless with flames and butterfly wings on their nipples. Hell, who doesn't love body paint? But for the love of God who said it was a good idea to do that in WISCONSIN?!
I had women coming up to me asking all sorts of questions and I just couldn't handle it.
Topless Woman #1: "Could you tell me where the bathroom is?"
Me: "Yes. Right up this hill and to your breast. Um.... I mean left."
Topless Woman #17: "Where's the beer tent?"
Me: "If you go rack... uh, back up to the plaza there are beer vendors on the main concourse."
Topless Woman #42: "There is a couple in our seats and they refuse to leave."
Me: "Okay, ma'am. Tits... It's no problem. Let me just get a security guard and we'll boob - MOVE them."
Topless Woman #73: "Could you turn around for me? My husband thinks you have a nice ass."
Me (thinking): "God, why have you forsaken me?"
I swear to you, there is nothing more awkward than talking to a pair of breasts that can stare back at you.