June. 1996. End of Junior Year at the Tibetan Freedom concert at the Polo Fields in SF. The day introduced me to MUNI and Boone's Stawberry Hill (you know you feel me). I obviously had awesome sunglasses.Crosby and I went into the pit for Rage, because we are brilliant. One of our friends was wearing birkenstocks (because we were cool) and her feet were VERY bloody. Someone crotch-grabbed-hoisted Crosby in the chaos and she crowd surfed out. We lost her for awhile, and during that time, she was interviewed by Spanish television.
I saw Foo Fighters for the first time that day as well. They were all new and fresh from the turbulence of Nirvana's end. I was standing on a hill, next to a line of port-o-potty's, watching Dave get all angry at the microphone. I wondered if he could see me.
And in that field, on that beaten down grass I saw people having sex. Sure, the blanket was just moving back and forth, but even me, in my 16 year old-wine buzzed-heat stricken-MUNI chasing form, knew what was the what next to that boxed wine box.
