Thursday, March 10, 2005 Hamilton Pirates

This year I was supposed to go overseas somewhere and guard something, vague? yeah well its not as interesting a story. Fortunately my employment opportunities changed and I got the office job instead. Now, mostly I get work done and then mail people weird letters like Valentines Day cards from The Government of North Korea. Not that it actually was from the government of North Korea, or even remotely believable, but enough people asked... More zombies.

Back to the point. Some of my friends from training invited me down to Hamilton to see a punk show in October. An opportunity too good to pass up. The guys I'm talking about are pirates. They are army as well but unlike most, these guys get together in packs get boozed up and go to punkshows. If you ever pass through Hamilton and want to pay your respects the proper method is as follows:

1. Look for a bar containing or an individual wearing their famous crest: A Bobcat with an Eye Patch
2. Once you see the crest buy as much whiskey as you can
3. Then using your best pirate voice raise the booze and yell "To The Y'argylls!"
Note: Hide your wallet and anything else of value you may have with you.

I got into Hamilton around 5pm stepping off the bus with a brutal hangover from a previous event in Toronto. Met up with the guys and began the night. Pitchers all around followed by repeated shots of Whiskey, Vodka and More Whiskey. This was then followed by a stop at another bar. The drink of the hour was vodka and redbull and after stepping in the door I was handed three of them, all doubles. Then directly to the club. Once inside another V&RB and a beer. While Seriously attempting to take in the music I excused myself as politely as I could, went to the washroom and while standing, sprayed sick into a toilet stall like I never had done before. My body did not reject what I had given it, The contents of my stomach exited my mouth hitting the toilet like a shotgun blast. Punk-Rock. Some guy behind me wearing a CBGB's shirt asked if I was alright. If I ever get the name of that guy, I'm sending his family a giftbasket of Danish Cheese.

Pits at punkshows are nothing worth mentioning, you either get what you expect, or are disappointed. Halfway into the set some girl was thrown out of the pit and into a support beam, Knocking her unconscious she was dragged away. I decided to take a break and went outside for some air. Hamiltons Emergency Response Team (The equivalent of the SWAT Team) had arrived. I figured this was the end of the show. Then I realized that someone from my group was talking to one of the cops, I later found out it was his brother. Ran into the CBGB's guy again, had a brief drunken conversation with him and went back inside and back to the pit. Some girl with a green Mohawk was kicking ass, punching random people, generally being belligerent. She got hold of the collar of my T-shirt, pulling backward she fell over when my shirt ripped and I landed on top of her and somehow I got pinned to the stage by her while we made out in the pit. She was suddenly pulled up off of me and the image of a fist shot toward my face and stopped inches from my nose. The fist turned into a helping hand and I suddenly realized I had just made out with CBGB's girlfriend. I still have no idea why he didn't break my nose. After the show I saw her ahead of me and the pirates, She was halfway through the passenger side window of a passing car throwing punches and spitting at the driver. Last month I saw her again. I was using the washroom and having a cigarette in a factory converted to a band practice space in Toronto. The type with rusting machinery and winding hallways. I walked out the door and saw her standing there talking to a friend of mine who she apparently knew years back when they were streetkids. Hamilton, Fighting For a Zombie Free World!.

I woke up the next day drunk at 3pm. That night we drove north an hour and a half to London to see the band play again. Despite a large crowd, the show was boring. The highlight of the set happened when I felt something hit me in the side of the head and realizing it was the jagged base of a beer bottle. The guy beside me had cracked a beer bottle over his own head sending pieces everywhere. I was picking glass out of my clothes while He was picking glass out of his head. I saw him once outside having a smoke. Half his face and his entire shirt were red with blood. The gorillas at the door kicked him out of the show for starting a fight with himself. I went back inside to buy a new shirt from one of the opening bands. I was going through t-shirts like paper cups, but it was a welcome change from the blood soaked one I was wearing, or the torn up rag from the night before. A really hot girl who was selling the shirts took my cash. I apologized for it being soaked in sweat she leaned over, grabbed my hand and said "I don't Mind" then licked my hand to the wrist. She wasn't licking my hand. She was tasting my skin. The look in her eye wasn't attraction, the look in her eye said "Food". Things happen that no matter what you think you have experienced will never prepare you for. These are the things that make life interesting and worth living, the good and the bad. Experiences you can't drive or wear or buy. I know this because I do not remember a single thing about the music during that two day period, the motivating reason I went on that trip in the first place.