Inside the Wall

Only one thing crossed my mind as I forced myself out of bed, that hot sticky July morning.
I was seeing Roger Waters today.

The day passed excruciatingly slow, and I found myself doing simple tasks to keep my mind occupied, but none of them worked. I tried practicing the guitar, but I couldn't keep focused. I could only do things related to the very concert I was about to see. I listened to the album while my sister straightened and teased my hair to unholy levels, and applied colors of makeup I never dreamed would exist on my face.

I could hardly eat at dinner, and I nearly choked on water from sheer excitement. How would I act once I actually arrived at the venue? The time came when I hopped on the trolley which would eventually take my brother and I right in front of the building where The Wall was being held.  I looked around, scanning the area to see if we were the only Roger fans. We weren't. A teenage boy and his mother and father sat together, all wearing matching t-shirts. After fiddling with the hem of my pants for a good twenty minutes, and holding on to the tickets for dear life, we arrived. There was a short walking distance, but nothing my leopard print converse and I couldn't handle.  After cleaning out my pockets which simply contained a cell phone and camera, I was allowed into the same building as Roger Waters. Several flights of stairs and an escalator later, a friendly usher escorted us to our seats. I could feel myself growing antsier by the second, and my eyes were constantly on the watch, observing everyone who for once, shared my taste in music. I wondered though if they were really true Pink Floyd fans. I wondered if they really knew who Syd Barrett was, or if they knew all the songs from a Saucerful of Secrets. You could almost tell who the true fans were, and who weren't. To my left were a bunch of young adults getting drunk and smoking weed. Not true fans. To my right a quiet, disabled elderly man who would join in with me, singing every word to every song. True fan.

At this point, I was nearly shaking from pure excitement, and it only grew once the lights dimmed down and two men dressed in uniform carried a pale, life-sized rag doll.

"I'm Sparticus!"

"No I'm Sparticus!"

I was screaming by now, and once the trumpet started playing, I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Not from sadness, (although there would be plenty of those) but from a feeling of being overwhelmed with happiness, excitement, every pleasant emotion you could think of.

Then finally, the infamous sound of that pounding opening riff to In the Flesh. Before my eyes, the Roger Waters came from behind the stage, shaking his arms in the air, and being helped into a long leather trench coat, and black aviator sunglasses.

So ya, thought ya
Might like to…

Go to the show?

I was screaming, clapping, and nearly crying at this point. I couldn't believe it. I had watched this infamous song being performed live on the internet multiple times, but nothing like this.  The sound and overall feel could never compare to this. I was in heaven.

The drunken adults continued to climb over every one of us, to buy more beer, and make yet another trip to the bathroom. I held my tongue. Why were they even here? They didn't care about the music or the meaning! They just wanted to feel a thrill from being high.

Mother should I trust the government?

No fucking way.

Intermission time.

To say I had to simply use the restroom, would be an understatement. Yeah, me and the other hundreds of women. I snaked my way through the crowd, trying to find the ladies room. I found two bathrooms for men, but no women. Finally, I was successful, only to place myself at the end of a very long line.

"Is this the end?" I looked up to see a woman in her late thirties early forties. Ah! A fellow female fan!  I laughed.

"I'm afraid so. It seems every female in this building wants to check their hair and makeup, for Roger."

"I knew this shit would happen." She laughed, and we continued our conversation on music, and how much cleaner women were than guys. The line moved pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was back in my seat, happily waiting for the intermission to end.

The lights dimmed once more, and the songs continued. I  felt myself tear up during Vera and Bring the Boys Back Home. Those children being reunited with their loved ones, it was all so beautiful.  Comfortably Numb began, and I could hear a man behind me ask the man a few seats over if he could take a drag. Why did he feel the need to get high? The song, guitar solo,  and vocals were all out of this world, and I was sober.

It was soon my favorite part of the entire album. In the Flesh. I felt on top of the world as I sang along:

Pink isn't well, he stayed back at the hotel
And they sent us along as a surrogate band
We're gonna find out where you fans really stand

"ARE THERE ANY PARANOIDS IN THIS STADIUM TONIGHT?"

I screamed.

"THIS- IS FOR YOU!"

With my arms held above my head, I clapped to the beat, screaming till my lungs almost collapsed.

The Trial. I had to take a picture of the "Ass Judge" I promised my sister I would.

"TEAR DOWN THE FUCKING WALL!"

In unison the entire audience shouted over and over again, "tear down the wall!" and before my eyes, the once tall, towering wall fell to the floor.

I could feel my stomach sink to the ground as the last song played. It was all over.  Roger said his goodbyes, and it was all over. Pushing ourselves through the crowd, we walked a good distance to where the subway station was located. Upon passing the venue, I spotted a line of limousines to the side of the building. I wondered which Roger would be in…

Gripping onto the metal bar above my head, I steadied myself on the subway train. A couple of young men giggled at the whole experience of being on this "magical ride", they were all high.

I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom, collapsing on my bed. My hair, clothes, skin smelled of smoke, it didn't matter. I would save this t-shirt forever, every memory of the concert was burned into my head for good. The way the acoustic guitar played the lonely, haunting riff during Is There Anybody Out There? How the disabled man and I sang in complete harmony the entire concert. All of it, I will bring to my death bed. I was crushed, depressed that it was over.

But even happier that it happened.