So I'm being shoved around in the dark, steamy room and my left shoe is hanging off my toes and I'm clinging to Jess for dear life and our arms are sliding around on each other as we bounce unevenly and I'm drenched in more sweat from football jersey guy next to me than my own pores and I'm screaming and pumping my fist into the air and I'm tired of football jersey guy so I take a running leap at him and shove him into the hardcore moshers and we surge forward and sideways and weave through the crush of bodies until we're right up in the third row and they play Devil's Dance Floor and we spin round and round like we're in a hoedown stepping on people and shoving them out of the way and they're passing crowd surfers around us and when they play Salty Dog I go crazy and manic even though we've been bouncing around for three hours and I want to do backflips and I would if the guys in front of me weren't made of cement and we're yelling the lines we know and some of the ones we don't and it makes me out of breath but it doesn't matter because they never quite closed back in on us after the hoedown dance so we've got something of our own little happybubble and we can let go without worrying about separation and they're finally over and we're so sad but they sign our tickets and the metro is closed so we catch a ride with Jess's classmate and his friends in his shagginwagon (he won't admit it but it's true) and he's taking the corners and the stop signs super fast and we're flying around and I get more hurt with rugburn on the way back than through the whole concert and we bought matching shirts and a cd and we pop the cd in Jess's stereo and stop for Taco Bell and arrive at the dorm sweaty and smelly and hungry and oh so satisfied with the night.

Flogging Molly rocks my world.

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