04
Sep
08

that eraserheads thing.

Awkwardly, at first.

Woke up at 10 — it was for The Eraserheads, after all — had an early lunch, got ready and headed for Krispy Kreme Boni High Street.  Arrived at 2:45 with Drei, met up with Ven and hung out ’til just a little over 3 and then faced the big giant that was the concert venue, mistakenly announced by tarpaulins as “Eraserhead” concert.  (Which would confuse the lowest of IQs: was it a reunion for one?)

Several things were prohibited, like outside food, giant belt buckles and even umbrellas.  I didn’t want a repeat of the WTC incident, so I took precautions in hiding my cigs + lighter.

Obviously, with JUSTICE in mind, I had worn my bat-belt.  I attempted entry, but JUSTICE apparently can’t make it in, before I could protest, the big burly man was tugging at the “business” end of my belt.  (Not flinching was probably a good idea, with the tight-fitting yellow shirt barely containing the bouncer man’s muscles.)  At which point, Ven asks, “Which is more important?  Your belt or the experience?”

Being a tad early, we had claimed a little spot behind the railing as our camp site.  We had seen the danger of being crushed against barricades, and yet, people in the petron area rallied against them, in the sweltering heat.  If anything, the Eraserheads would be delivering a reunion concert and several cases of indirect skin cancer.

More than half a decade of absence can do that.

There were several food / souvenir stands inside, while the exits were all highlighted by a line of portalets.  Of which, I baptized with Coke from lunch.

Flashback:  I remember singing about a girl named Toyang; I remember lunch breaks where me and classmates would sing to Pare Ko in secret — back then, you see, it was a pretty big deal for us that a song had a lyric that encapsulated frustration in a neat little profanity.  You know — the one about a mother?

Two hours passed — I decided to get some food for later, in case people consumed everything by the later hours — we were to wait a total of more or less five hours, after all, and sustenance was needed.  I bought 3 McDonald’s cheeseburgers which the sun-drenched pavement kept warm.

Bea and Mark arrive — “Picnic?” Bea quipped.

At this point, we had made the acquaintance of Jon-Jon, the bouncer that was designated by our 4-meter mark.  He was our captor, and we had collective Stockholm.  We shared our cigarettes with him, as long as he didn’t take them.

Mark discovered the wonder that was the 5-peso hotdog.  Got a few cellophanes-full, then paid 50-pesos for a can of Coke.  (Highway robbery!)

The thickening crowd was a Where’s Wally of people you know — people you grew up with, people you hated in high school, people who remember you but don’t remember back, etc.

We watched as people in the VIP area walk in, with much, much more room to spare — we were, after all, in the best spot that money could buy; if you weren’t friends-of-friends-of-friends of the band, or you didn’t know the secret code for becoming VIP, we were at the best possible spot available.

I stared at the Coke bottles that I thought I wouldn’t be drinking over at the SVIP section — which would turn out to be false later on.  We were too far, and we were positioned behind the structure that would light up the stage, further obstructing our view.  It would take several cardboard binoculars to make our position any better, or closer proximity.

Then someone called.

By some divine law-of-attraction miracle, we were given the opportunity to hop on over to the SVIP side of things.  Suddenly the Coke from afar was going to be within a gulp’s reach.

While the process of making the SVIP thing possible, two girls decide to use me as a wall.

I saw Kim from the old office — of whom I’ll get to see again later on.  We got the green light and we were out of there — I was only too happy to leave the wall-girls.  I retrieved my belt and was on the merry way of watching magic as it’s about to happen.

The Coke from afar was now in my hands — and the mini-burgers that were being served found a way to disappear in my mouth.


But we had less than an hour, so we positioned ourselves 10 rows from the stage.

The 10-minute counter pops up.

The opening riffs to Alapaap blare out — and, watching band mates of the members go star struck over their reunion, it hit me.  This was a “big deal” happening right before me.  I stood there, mouth agape, awkwardly at first, and then I started to jump with the beat.  Regardless of which section we all happened to be, whose elbows we were rubbing up against, I knew I was lucky — to have been there, to feel the big deal happen all over again.

And then the thing that everyone and their nanay talked about happened.

As the announcer repeats the exit procedures over and over, we decide to abuse the free snacks and Coke — and then I saw Cristel, along with other former officemates, Kim included.  Of the reported 60-70 thousand people in attendance for the Eraserheads Reunion Concert, it probably would’ve been impossible not to see anyone you know, or previously knew.

We decided to have dinner at 11, smelling like 3 o’clock and feeling like 8-year-olds.

How’d your Eraserheads reunion concert go?  Leave a comment to share the experience!

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