Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Story Time

So who's up for Amsterdam the third weekend of March 2006?

Nine months is kinda short notice, but organizers of the Jam in the 'Dam decided to give everyone three-quarters of a year to prepare for what could be the sickest weekend of 2006. Anyway, take a look at the lineups over at the Live Music Blog and let's see if we can make something fun and sexy happen.

I was talking to LMB Proprietor Justin the other night and he brought up the world famous, now defunct Andy Gadiel's Phish Page, which I haven't even thought about in years. Gadiel is a fucking legend in the online music community, a man waaay ahead of his time who created the website that literally changed the game for music fans on the Internets. Jambands.com, Jambase, the online message boards, much of this blog or the LMB, they might not exist -- or exist in the current form -- without this dude. So here's to that.

So I got nostalgic, hit up Google and found the time TJ in OH posted his hilariously written story about New Year's '97 at Madison Square Garden on the message board of Gadiel's Phish Page. Even if you don't like Phish, even if you don't like music, I promise you'll enjoy the following true story. I would have loved to have been there that night, but I was in Aruba with my family, not being kidnapped (oooh, that's a terrible joke).

But it's a good thing I wasn't there. Otherwise, TJ might never have written the following story for me. Anyway, onto the tale...

"Excerpt from a message to Ace Cowboy detailing the events of 12/31/97:

...The most peculiar thing we witnessed was after the show on the 31st. We're sitting straight back from the stage, not in the upper deck, but the one right below, all the way in the back. They were decent seats, pretty much the same ones we had in '95, as we could see everything going on: the band, the crowd, the light show. So people are filing out, it's like 1:00 a.m. or something, when Romack goes, "Look back and to the left." We're all stoned so the "back and to the left" thing gets me giggling thinking about assassinated presidents and spitting Mets. So I twist my neck around, don't really see anything, kind of sit up a little, and that's when I see it.

There's this girl, ass-naked, standing at the top of the stairs in MSG.

Initially, I was stunned. Mind you, I had seen excessive nudity in avenue before (see Tinley Park, 1997), and you would think that the abundance of sex in advertising and popular culture in general would have completely desensitized me to any occurrence such as this, but I was honestly speechless. Although no one person in our immediate party vocalized the intention, it was clearly understood that we would all wait, a mere 10 feet away from this Crazynakedchick, until the situation was completely resolved.

We all considered trying to talk her down. You know, get her seated, get a fleece on her or something, but there is something forbidden about approaching a strange woman that is wearing no clothes. Some of our early theories were that this was merely some prank, an attempt at noteriety from one of the legion of my-parents-live-on-the-Island-and-I-drive-a-Range-Rover-and-go-to-Penn-but-I-ate-three-hash-brownies-tonight Phish fans. Then, we thought maybe she was waiting for a friend of hers to take her picture, sort of a "Nude Badge of Courage," stick-it-to-the-man, I-got-naked-in-MSG-and-nobody-caught-me thing. Then she began to speak.

It was all very nonchalant. She, with animated hands and a stern expression turned from side to side from her perch at the top of the stairs, muttering something about how we all understood, and that what she was doing was beautiful, and that we should join her. Now, when she mentioned this last part, I began to get an idea. Snacks, who was with us, has sort of a history of public nudity, and I have a history of instigating said incidents. I knew what must come next.

"Snacks, go get naked with that chick," I said.
"I'm not gettin' naked," he replied, but you could tell it would bepossible to sell him on the idea.
"Come on, get naked."
"No."
"Just for a minute."
"TJ, I'm not getting naked."
"Get up there and get naked. Just for a minute."
"There's no way."
"Well, at least strip to the waist."

And so it continued for a few minutes, eight people pushing Snacks to the verge of nudity. By this point, some pervert from a couple of rows down came up and was taking pictures of Crazynakedchick, who gladly posed. This ended when one of her friends came up, another woman, this one fully clothed. The two began fighting playfully, shadowboxing and stuff, when Crazynakedchick starting laughing maniacally and landing repeated open-handed blows about her best friend's face, neck, breast and head. And for some reason, all of this didn't seem too abnormal. It's not everyday you see a naked woman in a fight unless you work on the set of The Jerry Springer Show.

Like all things, the fight came to an abrupt end. I can't recall exactly what happened next, but I know that for some reason, at the exact same moment, all of us turned to look at Crazynakedchick. I remember there being an expression of complete serenity on her face. All of the agitation and anxiety and aggression that had been there before was replaced with a mask of total calm. She brought her palms together in front of her in a praying fashion, raised them above her head, bent slightly at the knees, and sprang outward in a perfect dive. She didn't flinch. She didn't look scared. She didn't try to brace herself for a landing on the concrete steps below. She just flew...about 10 steps down before pancaking with a sickening thud.

This change in plot turned the entire section on its collective ass. All of our mouths dropped. The uber-stoned around us sat in shock. Several girls shrieked in panic. A guy with dreadlocks ran for security. It was like somebody had yelled "D.E.A.!" Because she had dove so far and a group was amassing around her, we couldn't see what had become of her. I, of course, feared the worst and fought off images of fractured skulls and broken teeth. But Crazynakedchick proved resiliant and climbed to her feet a few minutes after the spill. She had no visible lacerations, but her previously clear skin was now tainted with the smeared muck from the floor of The Garden: spilled beer and soda, the tapped ash from that last cashed bowl, some teenager's vomit.

At this point one of us, or maybe all of us, exclaimed "Let's get the fuck out of here." As we made our way out of our seats we witnessed Crazynakedchick consoling a crying and concerned friend. Crazynakedchick was probably her ride home. We were walking down the steps and into the main aisle when MSG's crack security staff arrived on the scene. One of the rent-a-cops kept trying to put a sweater around her, but she slapped away his hands. As I turned one last time to see Crazynakedchick, her posture stiffened. She raised her chin, stared into space and began singing in this powerful voice. I don't know what the song was, but the entire image was terribly surreal. She had attained a certain dignity, standing naked to the world singing her song of songs. In the earliest hours of the new year, the beauty that she had prophecised came to fruition.

I turned away as we exited the main part of the arena and walked downt he steps toward the main entrance of The Garden. It was agreed upon by all of us: it was a damn good thing Snacks didn't get naked."

Man, I love that story. Good work, TJ.

Slack Song of the Day: I'm not sure why I love this so much, but every time I hear Strangefolk's version of the Juicy Fruit commercial, it always makes me grin like Shoeless Joe's ghost. Here's a decent version from Halloween '99. Since that's a quickie, here's the band with Sometimes from the same show.

4 Comments:

At 11:30 AM, Blogger PaulNoonan said...

Love the juicy fruit song. And the story.

I must take this opportunity to talk some shit about the fact that the Brewers beat the Yankees, because it may never happen again. I can't believe the headline of the sport section in Milwaukee wasn't:

"Big Unit can't get past Double D."

 
At 1:03 PM, Blogger jp said...

Crazynakedchick sounds like a barrel of laughs. I think you need to figure out who she was so a reality TV crew can follow her around for a month.

 
At 1:30 PM, Blogger ethan said...

two plusses from the yanks loss: (1) cirillo continued his climb back to a .300 hitter, and (2) the unit finally k'd more than ip's.

 
At 2:01 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Just got out of a looong meeting. Now I'm back, to let you know, I can really shake 'em down.

Man, the Yankees really suck...the only good thing I found to come out of last night's ridiculousness was the fact that Turnbow got me a save. The worst thing would have been if he blew the save but we remained tied and then the Brewers eventually won, which I thought was going to happen. It SHOULD have happened, but Cano couldn't advance Bernie to third, which is gross. Minor league coaches really need to teach players how to bunt, it's scary how bad some people are, especially middle infielders. Just makes Derek Jeter that much cooler...

JP, the Crazynakedchick story is indeed a classic. I think I might post this over on the Phish boards and see if anyone can shed some light on the subject. Would love to get a follow-up interview.

 

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