Grayson Joseph scanned his ticket at the arena entrance and
felt everything as soon as he entered. Every drunken laugh. Every aggressive
conversation. Every playful shove. While none of these actions were directed
towards him, they all rented space in his mind, swirling in his nervous system
at a million miles an hour. He tucked his head as he made his way to the
general admission pit in a vain effort to make himself invisible. Were these
people casting off their stones at him? No matter how many times Grayson told
himself otherwise, his mind would feed him more lies and more psychosis.
Once he found his position in the pit, Grayson kept his head
tucked and his eyes averted. For all he knew, he could have been the most
noticeable person in the crowd. His skinny build, greasy blond hair, oversized
Linkin Park T-shirt, and baggy green khakis would have ordinarily helped him
blend into the concert environment, but his mind shoveled more self-hatred and
lies into his system. Grayson held his stomach and let out a small burp as his
knees grew weaker. He wished Halestorm would just get onstage already and close
out this social experiment. He sarcastically thanked his mother for the concert
tickets in an effort to further kick himself for his “weakness”.
After a while of socially anxious thoughts and tingles, the
lights went out in the arena and the audience cheered their heads off. They
clapped, chanted, and roared in anticipation of Halestorm taking the stage.
Grayson tried to let out a cheer of his own, but all that came out was a small
pop in his throat. This social experiment was not working. Although, he cheered
up a little when Lzzy Hale and company took center stage. The band greeted
their audience with one of their classics, “American Boys”.
The shredding guitars and Lzzy’s raucous voice helped put
Grayson at ease. He found himself bouncing his head up and down to the tune. He
relaxed some more and bounced around harder. The more he enjoyed himself, the
less judgmental he found the eyes of his fellow audience members. He could take
on the world. He could take on an army of moshers. The demons of hell could
drag him to the underworld and he’d still be having a night of fun.
But that was only because his confidence went largely
unchallenged. The intense fright jolted his system once again when a soft,
long-nailed hand brushed across his shoulders. Grayson soon found his hands
tenderly gripped by those of an attractive female, dressed in her heavy metal
best with the black leather skirt, gothic boots, and pink halter top. Her dyed
blue hair and cherry-colored lips completed her seductive look. Grayson didn’t
know whether to admire this woman’s beauty or be terrified of her, so he
silently took both roads.
The temptress danced in Grayson’s arms, twirling around, dipping
backwards, swinging to the left, and swinging to the right. He didn’t
reciprocate one single dance move, instead opting to freeze in fear despite the
woman’s coaxing. She danced with him some more and Grayson had a knot in his
intestines the size of a medicine ball. He also had a tingling sensation in his
penis and testicles, so he scrunched his legs together to hide a potential
involuntary boner.
What started off as an innocent dance turned dirty in a
swift minute when the seductress slowly grinded her butt against Grayson’s
groin. His vision grew blurry as he detected several smiles and camera phones
lighting up around him. He remained frozen with fear. What was he supposed to
do? Was he supposed to like the attention? Was he supposed to pull away? Why
him? Why not more attractive men?
As the questions pooled in his racing mind, the tingling
sensation in his groin reached its fever pitch. Sticky liquids crashed against
his pants and oozed down his legs, causing his dance partner to jump backwards and
cover her mouth in disbelief. Grayson looked down at his pants in an effort to
avoid the judgmental stares, but all he got was another reminder to do his
laundry the next day. His pants were soaked in his own sexual fluids. Were the
people around him laughing or was that his mind playing tricks on him? Were
people recording him on their phones or were they recording Lzzy Hale? Grayson
touched his pants and wiped his hands on his Linkin Park
shirt. He was that drenched and that embarrassed.
“How could you?” he mouthed to the dumbfounded dance partner
before running out of the arena as fast as he could. His legs were weak from
the orgasm, yet they took him far out of sight. They created distance between
himself and the judgmental eyes and laughing voices. He didn’t notice security
personnel asking him if he was okay. His tunnel vision took him out of the
arena and down the streets of Paulson
City, where the ferry
terminal was waiting for him.
Grayson’s lungs burned like acid. His chest and ribcage
didn’t expand far enough for his comfort. His eyes grew wetter than his pants.
His breath intensified into a whirlwind of exhaustion. Yet he continued to run
down the street. Neither the psychotic homeless people nor the laughing street
thugs could slow him down. His legs matched the speed of his racing mind. Even
with his skinny body, he should have had a heart attack with the pace he was
going.
When he made it to the terminal, that’s when the acidic
feeling in his torso and the numbness of his mind took over. He doubled over
and sucked down enough wind for a marathon sprint. His breaths were raspy and
squeaky, which drew the attention of the terminal personnel right away. Did
they too have judgmental eyes? Did they see him only for his messy pants and
not his messy mind? Grayson took a seat at a nearby bench and huddled over to
further catch his breath.
“Sir, are you okay?” said a fellow terminal worker decked
out in an orange vest and blue uniform. No response. “Sir?” Grayson lifted his
head. “Are you okay?”
With a shaky voice, a pink face, and teary eyes, Grayson
lied when he said, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Do you need a glass of water or anything like
that? I can get you one if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll be alright. I swear.”
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure.”
As soon as the worker walked away, Grayson was truly left
alone with his paranoid thoughts. The confusion between arousal and terror. The
dangerous beauty. The seduction that led him to his downfall, not unlike the
sirens he read about in horror and fantasy books. “Why me?” he asked himself.
“Why not somebody else.” Grayson wiped away a lonely tear and for the first
time noticed how badly his hands and legs were shaking. “I look awful…I am
awful…”
These thoughts pounded in his head like Arejay Hale’s drum
kit, a sound he couldn’t listen to ever again without being reminded of his
molestation. No more Halestorm. No more rock and roll. Worst of all, no more
rock concerts. “I should have just stayed home and read more fantasy novels.”
“What was that?” said a nearby worker.
“Nothing.”
Grayson spent so long in the psychotic doldrums that he just
then noticed a large crowd of former concertgoers filing into the ferry
station. They wore T-shirts of their favorite bands and smiles on their
intimidating faces. Did these people record his humiliation and post it online?
Did these people want to judge him some more? Did these people find comedy in
his pain? He could feel it all as they walked past him. Some looked down at his
khakis in disgust, others in pity.
A gentleman in a Metallica T-shirt and short brown hair
approached Grayson and the latter could feel his stomach aching and twisting
yet again. The man asked, “Do you know that chick?”
“No…I have no idea who she is.” Grayson’s eyes couldn’t even
meet this stranger’s face.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. After you ran out of the building,
the security tossed her out on the streets. They weren’t having any of it. Lzzy
was pissed too.”
That didn’t bring him any comfort. It just made Grayson tuck
his head further into himself. “I’m so fucking embarrassed right now.”
“You’re embarrassed?”
“Yeah…I don’t even want to get on the ferry with these
people…I want to go home and get changed, but…”
“Want a glass of water?”
Grayson smiled sadly and joked, “Do you have a cyanide pill
I can swallow with it?”
Waving his hand, the stranger said, “Nah, don’t do that
shit. It ain’t worth it. Yeah, there were some jackasses laughing, but it ain’t
everyone. Come on, the ferry’s going to be here soon.”
The stranger extended his hand and Grayson allowed himself
to be pulled to his feet. The latter said, “I didn’t even buy a ticket yet. I
should probably do that.”
“Nah, you don’t have to buy squat. It’s Earth Day. Public
transportation is free. Did you already forget today was Earth Day?”
“Trust me, I won’t be able to forget today no matter how
hard I try.” The two of them boarded the ferry together amongst the crowd of
metal-heads. Grayson almost thought of this kind stranger as a shield from the
terrifying eyes and lit phone screens around him. “How come you’re not laughing
at me right now?”
“Because that shit ain’t funny,” said the stranger. “It
wasn’t funny when it happened to Chester Bennington, may he rest in peace, and
it wasn’t funny when it happened to you. I see you got the shirt on. Nice! I’m
Steve, by the way.”
“Grayson. Nice to meet you.”
The two of them shook hands, though Grayson worried that he
got sticky stuff on Steve’s palm. Steve said, “We’re metal heads. We got to
look out for each other. We’re one big family.”
“I just hope the guys on Rock Feed and Loudwire’s You Tube
videos feel the same way when they see what happened to me.”
“It’s the internet. There’re going to be a few assholes here
and there. But you know who’s not going to be ashamed of you? The guys in
Halestorm. They don’t think that shit’s funny either.”
“That’s wonderful, but I don’t think I can listen to a
Halestorm song again without thinking of…you know…” said Grayson referencing
his stained trousers.
“I wouldn’t give up on rock and roll so easily if I were
you. It’s brought you peace and comfort this far into your life. It might save
your life again. Think about that for a minute.” Steve patted Grayson on the
back before heading off to the ferry’s bathroom.
Grayson would take him up on thinking about that. He did so
in a faraway corner of the ship where the shadows covered him up from the
masses. “What a night,” he said as he sat down huddled over, his mind still
racing. How long would it take for his mind to slow down? How many laundry
cycles would it take to get the splooge out of his pants and underwear? Would
the femme fatale be arrested for her actions or would Grayson become a laughing
stock to the police too? The only reason his mind stopped asking so many damn
questions was because he fell asleep in his chair. A temporary vacation was
just what he needed. He could think about it tomorrow. But tonight, it was all
over…at least for now.
