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How to Spot an Off-Duty Cop at a Metallica Concert by Closing Your Eyes and Just Randomly Pointing

Metallica is one of those super heavy bands that just hits differently when you’re having a rough day and everything is just pissing you off, man. Maybe your court-appointed counselor or therapist isn’t around to help you with your pent-up rage and anger issues, so you feel like you just gotta get out and rage among some like-minded hotheads. And I say, what better way to blow off some steam among your red-faced, veiny-foreheaded brothers than catching Metallica live and in person? And who perfectly represents those fellow Ill-tempered Metallica fans I speak of? None other than the boys in blue.

More like “Metallicop,” am I right?

When it comes to rage-fueled cop types at concerts, I think we all know the deal. White Male, maybe has a buzz cut, usually stumbling around while triple-fisting draft beers. So basically, aside from a few nostalgic metalheads from the 1980s, that’s about 90% of the crowd at any Metallica concert or county fair beer tent.

Undoubtedly, you’ll hear them scream, “SAD BUT TRUUEE!” Or, “PLAY SANDMAN!” drunkenly into your ear. Sometimes when they’re feeling really jacked up, or maybe feeling particularly insecure, they demand something truly heavy. “GIVE ME FUEEEL,” they’ll scream, hoping James and the boys hear their cries for attention.

Sounds like hell on earth, doesn’t it? Maybe you want to get away from the insanity just to gather your thoughts. You’re just there trying to enjoy your favorite band from childhood after all.

But you quickly realize, there is no escape.

You try to make a run for the concession stand for a pop, only to find a gaggle of jar-headed white dudes wearing thin blue line shirts and flip-flops bickering about the Dallas Cowboys even though you’re in Vermont.

As the fear sets in, you begin to panic. You finally decide, “enough is enough.” Then, as you pack up and leave the hall, and head to the parking lot, you hear the sounds of “Master of Puppets” off in the distance as the blitzkrieg of Punisher stickers and diesel smoke envelops your entire being.

Your fandom of a once cutting-edge thrash metal has been overshadowed by the fact that any time you decide to see this band, you’ll become one with the off-duty police officer. Your inability to dive deeper into metal music beyond bands your grandmother is also familiar with will be ever-present. You’ll think, “If I just sign up, I’ll definitely be one of the good ones.” And I should know, this pro-cop “I got your six” tattoo wasn’t on my forearm before I saw Metallic for the first time. Good luck.