Thursday, September 22, 1994, at about 6:00 p.m.,
somewhere out�side of Washington, DC, I was hungry. My
buddies Drew, John and I ordered a large pepperoni pizza
which we devoured in what seemed like minutes. Moments
later, we were off to the 9:30 Club where Too Much Joy would
soon be making an appearance.
The concert, which now seems like years ago, was
excellent, but now, in the dawn of a new album release, I
feel it should be known to all who will listen-Do not eat
pizza before a Too Much Joy concert.
The 9:30 Club was packed solid, everyone bouncing
and many of them stage-diving into my head. So crowded that
if you raised your hands above your head, they were staying
there because everyone was so close together
that you wouldn't have-room to return them to your side. There was Much
bumping, a lot of sweating -it was very hot- and everyone
was filled with Too Much Joy. Unfortunately, not only was I
filled with this euphoria they call Too Much Joy, but I was
also filled with slimy, greasy pizza. And by song four or
five (which happened to be "Crush Story"), I started feeling
a rumbling inside-"Don't know how long it's gonna last,
everything's moving fast." Soon, I realized, "Things are
getting worse, things are getting oh so bad." And if one
more clown bumped me too hard, I was about to have the most
embarrassing moment of my life, and so was the clown.
Find a bathroom. I
remembered wandering around before the show, and I seemed to
recall a bathroom downstairs. I quickly fought my way
through the mobs of people, and it was at this moment that I
made a discovery. Is anyone else familiar with the
phenomenon that when you really have to go, the closer you
get to the bathroom, the more you have to go? It is directly
proportional. Anyway, I reached the men's room...a stall!
Yes, it was not locked! BAM! That's because there was no
lock. Clocked the poor guy who was on the throne right in
the skull. I remember him saying something like, "Awww,
man!" I think the door hit him pretty good. I apologized.
Now I was in trouble because the pizza thought it was
home free, and if you remember the phenomenon that I
mentioned earlier, I was at the peak of my trauma.
Women's room! It's my only hope! Ran to the other side
of the hall -incredible- no one was in there. Probably the
only women's room in the world not occupied! Three stalls -
I took the closest to the door. I was a little embarrassed
to be in the women's room, but it was easy to overlook as
the pizza found its rightful home.
By the time I was finished, two or three girls had come
into the bathroom. I don't think they actually did
anything-they just came in... to talk. Amazing. Why is it
that so many women are constantly going to the bath�room,
and why in God's name do they have to go in groups of two or
three or more?! Sure enough, very few of them actually went
to the bathroom. I love Too Much Joy though, and had little
desire to spend half the show in the women's room,
but I waited for them to
leave. Apparently, however, I came
into the room during the only window of complete
non-occupancy. I waited while three girls just stood there
and talked for five or ten minutes. "Boy, these guys are
really good!" "Yeah, they're not bad." (If you think
they're so damn good, how about going upstairs and actually
listening to them? Then on to, "So, what do you think of
Johnny?" "Oh, I don't know, he's kinda cute, but..." It was
the most juvenile conversation I've ever heard. So
this is why women go to the bathroom!
By then, there were seven women, two in the remaining
stalls, and one of them right outside the door of my stall,
waiting for me to leave. The cracks on either side of the
stall doors were about three inches, so in order to hide my
male identity, I leaned forward a little bit so that no one
could see my face through the cracks. Stupid, I was wearing
shorts, and I'm afraid I don't remember the last time I
shaved my legs.
Now I was starting to think I was being
ridiculous. I'll just walk out; these girls are never
going to leave. Just then, I heard a whisper,
"Hey...that's a guy in there!" So I came out, smiled a
crooked smile and said, "Sorry, the men's room was
occupied." And she said to me with this really pissed off
look on her face, "Yeah, right!"
Oh, OK, I spent ten bucks to see my favorite band and
then realized, "No, I'd rather hang out in the women's
room." Then again, this study has shown that this is the
logic to which many women seem to subscribe...
Oddly enough, my buddy Drew saw Too Much Joy again not
too long after this little incident. Sandy didn't even play
that show; there was a replacement. In the middle of the
show - in fact, in the middle of a song - Tommy ran off the
stage because he was having a little problem with his
stomach! They must've had pizza.