Butt you see. I'll never be the same.

Have you ever held a stranger's butt in your hands? Like hard core, two fisting action, stranger butt. In. Your. Hands? 

This sounds like it's going somewhere bad. Just hear me out!

Last night a friend and I went to the Band of Horses concert. Twilight series style. It was my first interaction with a concert in this series. I had never been to one before and I enjoy Band of Horses oh so much, and the tickets were only 5 bucks so I'm thinking, why the heck not. 

Herewego.

Linds and I pushed our way to the front of the pack. Ya know, into the section where the sober people kind of tend to fizzle out, and the smell of weed is so fresh you might throw up. It's prime. I'd stand there every moment of my day if I could. 

We were in so deep that our arms couldn't move. They were plastered to our bodies. Because of all the people that were around us, we were physically unable to move. But also! because our bodies were so drenched in salty water, our arms were literally STUCK to our bodies. They wouldn't budge. Even if you got a crowbar in the there, it would be useless. Think about it.


(also just an FYI to the world. Never wear shirts that are any color besides darkness or totally white. The in-betweens just let the world see how much of a sweaty, salt monster you actually are. Oh me? Ya I had pit stains that just decided to surpass the sanctuary of my pits and head straight on, half-way down my torso. Gettin all dem boys.)


So the songs started and all the sudden we were in a sea of bodies. Well we already were in a sea of bodies, but then they started acting like an actual sea! Waves. There were crashing waves of drunken teenagers that swayed us from side to side. Forward and back. All around. I would be looking at the stage, then I would be pressed into some guy's back, next I would be in a tree, then all the sudden I would be on the ground! 


Rule number one of mosh pits. DON'T FALL DOWN.


So naturally, Linds and I both made our way to the ground. 


I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Those stories about people getting trampled are real! They are real stories! Not just trying to scare us. They are really real stories! Holy crap!


I found out later, the same things were going through Lindsay's head. 


So I'm on the ground, fighting for the right to straighten my legs out and remove the terror from my heart. But then, I look over at Lindsay to make sure she was safe.

She wasn't.

Out of no-where, this giant butt begins pressing it's cheeks right on top of Linds' head. Like she was a human bar-stool er somethin!
No lady! You stand at concerts! You do not get to sit on my friend's head!

I had to save Lindsay. I had to. I simply had to. It was my duty as a person and because that just seems like a terrible way to die.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter. Do you mind if I asked what happened?"
"Oh no of course. You see, she was squashed. By a big butt. It just sat on her. I was told she felt no pain, just a lot of pressure. From the butt. Because it was so big. And it sat on her."
"No ya, I get it."
"Sat on her..."
"Ya no, I know."
"A butt."

Butt in order to save her, I had to get right up in there and remove the butt myself. Manually. I took my trained keeper hands, put them in the double-u shape I was taught at a very young age to use while catching a ball, and placed two hands on one cheek. ONE CHEEK. I exerted more force in that moment then I ever have before. I was like that mom who lifted a bus to save her child, that one time. That was me!
Cept interchange bus with giant buttocks and mom with superhero. The BCM if you will! (the butt-cheek master)  


NOPE. That's a terrible superhero name. I take it back! I take it all back! 


*scary voice* YOU CAN'T.


Right well. Moving on.


The person was probably all, "Yo man. Why somebody be grabbing my not-so-rosy cheeks? You aint no toilet. You don't get to touch that!"

We had to get out of there. People in the mosh pit were crazy son. Cray-Ze. Word.

I think my brother Chris put it best though. When I told him Lindsay was almost killed in the pit by a serial sitter, he replied simply by saying...

"She was almost moshed potatoes."

Pure. Gold.