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I’m Drunk and an Hour Late but I Deserve to Be Right in Front of the Stage

Get the hell out of my way! I just got here an hour late and I’m shitfaced but it’s my God-given right to be directly in front of the stage for my favorite band. Hell yeah, Lagwagon! You guys better play “Linoleum!!!”

Oh hey, it’s me. The guy whose hand violently grabs your shoulder and yanks you aside after the headliner has already been playing for 10 minutes. You know, the guy staring maniacally up at the band and frantically fighting his way towards them with the fixed intensity of a drunken Dudebro T-1000. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the front of the stage so you’re gonna have to move.

What’d ya say, motherfucker? If I wanted to be up close I should’ve gotten here earlier? Well if I wanted shitty advice, I should’ve asked you. That doesn’t even make sense? Well how ’bout this, you’re a punk bitch nerd and I’m genuinely sorry that I just spilled an entire Coors Light on your girlfriend.

Good thing I have another one right here though. Double-fisting! “Double-fisting” also doubles as my favorite Lagwagon song. Pretty sure it was on “Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4.” This is the best night of my life.

Look, I’m not such a bad guy. I’m just constantly drunk and I learned concert etiquette at the Family Values tour in 1998. Speaking of alcoholism you don’t even have a beer, man! If you aren’t carelessly sloshing around an overfilled plastic cup of piss-yellow domestic, what will you chuck into the air the second the pit opens up? Your shoe? That’s reckless and you should be more careful. And more drunk.

Technically I didn’t “just get here,” by the way. But as soon as me and my bro Blumpkin got in the venue, we headed straight for the bar. We had to keep the buzz going from our epic pre-game. Fuck I love tailgating. It’s the reason I miss every opening band, the first three quarters of football games, and all four of my grandparent’s funerals.

You probably noticed us in the parking lot playing Cornhole, slamming Jager shots, and blasting an FM radio station perpetually stuck on commercial break. It was gnarly! We played some one vs. one beer pong and, after his 9th straight loss, Blumpkin totally blew chunks. He’s sleeping in the car now.

His loss! Lagwagon rules! Let me just push my way past a few more people and get right up there. Then I can stage dive, crowdsurf to the back, grab two more beers, and do it all over again!

Let’s go, Lagwagon! Play “Double-fisting!”