The concert in Atlanta wasn't much different. The Georgia Dome barely got
all the party goers stuffed into the massive inferno, and the lines were
monstrous. I dont recall the setlist. I was too busy wiping someone's
expensive cheap-beer puke off my new SDRE North American Tour shirt; they
stained all the tour dates on the back. I do remember walking miles for a
bathroom and again lingering behind numerous pairs of Abercrombie shorts to
relieve myself of the awful stench. I then return to my seats to see a 300
lb. cheeseburger security guard hasseling my girlfriend saying that we were
in seats L-D1320 and L-D1321 when we were suposed to be in seats I-O1320 and
I-O1321. We walked the whole earth to find these seats.
Suddenly, I wake up in the county jail next to a dirty drunk coughing
pitch black spit and the officer charging me with indecency. I guess the
night ends with myself calling my friend Andy and asking him if I can borrow
$600, now!
