So. Tonight's Radiohead Concert!

[akujunkan]

Fuck Nissan Pavillion. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it in the ass, and fuck it hard. Fuck it up the nose and the mouth. Fuck its father, its children, and and its bruised and beaten corpse.

And then fuck it some more.

The doors for tonight's Radiohead concert opened at 6:30. The opening band went on at 7:30. Radiohead was scheduled to go on at about 9:00.

We left Homeland Central at 4:30. It took us about half an hour to make the first 27 miles--about par for the coarse.

The next two miles took an hour. The next two, two hours. The next five another two. And the last zero-point-two-fucking-miles to the venue took an hour. A fucking hour.

Why? Because traffic was severely backed up.

Why was traffic severely backed up? Because one of the two roads into the venue was closed. No fucking event staff at the site, no fucking detour signs posted.

There were two fucking guys running the parking lot. Two. For the whole goddamn venue. And they weren't even at the entrance. Thousands of people trying to get in--we counted close to nine hundred cars before we gave up--and the motherfucking Nissan Pavillion could only get two event staff out there to run the lot, with no one on the surrounding roads.

By the time we actually made it into the fucking place, ten minutes of the concert was left. So we asked one of the two fucking staff on the scene where the exit was, because by this time we'd been in the car for six-fucking-hours straight, needed to use the bathroom, and we were damned if we were going to endorse our expensive-ass tickets for the encore (if there was going to be one. Judging by the traffic and the ratio of parked cars to cars in the free-for-all, I doubt even a third of the sold-out audience had actually made it into the fucking venue).

Anyway, here was the response of the attendant:

"Make a right, a left, a left, a left, a right, a left and then another right. Hahah, I dunno, man!"

That is pretty much verbatim.

So we left. After spending six-fucking-hours in the car, thanks to the piss-poor site "management" at the motherfucking Nissan Pavillion. That's $61 a pop down the drain, plus all the gas our manual transmission compact guzzled while idling for six-goddamn-motherfucking-hours.

I am so livid I can barely fucking breathe.

And for the encore:

I came home to find my kitchen submerged under half an inch of water.

That will be all.