The Faint

When I was in tenth grade, I went to see Depeche Mode in Frankfurt, Germany. It was the World Violation tour in 1990, which was not as cool as the Depeche Mode 101 tour, but beggars can't be choosers.

When we got to the Frankfurt Festhalle, I immediately went and bought two t-shirts. I had nowhere to stash them, so I put them on. (Not the brightest move...) We milled around waiting for the opening band to finish and I talked with my friend Dee about which songs we thought they'd play. I was hoping for "Stripped" and "Behind the Wheel".

Then the lights went down and beginning of "Personal Jesus" began to play and the band members danced out on stage like they were riding a horse. The crowd went wild and we pushed our way up to the front by the stage.

To my amazement, we were able to weasel our way to the very front and got about three rows from the stage. The Festhalle is an arena that is a pretty good size, so there were tons of people pushing in waves and we were swaying back and forth. I was noticing that I was getting increasingly warmer, what with the two concert t-shirts that I was wearing in addition to my own t-shirt. Perspiration was beading on my forehead and I felt a little light headed. I ignored this feeling. That was my second mistake - the first was wearing THREE shirts at an arena concert.

I looked up as someone shoved me from behind and I could see the stage lighting glint off Dave Gahn's blue eyes. Sweat was running down my back and then things went a little bit melty. I held my ground so that I wouldn't lose my cherry position in the crowd. Then my vision began to tunnel and I felt light and heavy at the same time. I listed a bit and was supported my the fans that surrounded me and I concentrated on the lyrics to "Black Celebration". Then I felt myself slipping and I had my own black celebration as my knees buckled and I sailed down to the floor.

I awoke to my friend Dee slapping my face. Really hard, I might add. Dee said, "Wake up! Man, you went down like a ton of bricks!" And there was this guy Danny that had come with us and he was propping me up by my shoulders. I felt like a big dork.

When we got back to school on Monday, it seemed like word had spread. My friend Pat pretended to swoon and pass out every time I saw him in the hall. Dee seemed to have shared our adventure with everyone. I was so humiliated. Why couldn't I have fainted at a Slayer concert or something a little less poppy than Depeche Mode? Why, God, why?

I managed to get over this trauma eventually, as you do with the passage of time. I didn't think about it again until I was at a show at the Tractor Tavern here in Seattle. I don't even remember who was playing, but it was hotter than Hades inside the bar and I began to have that melty, fading vision feeling. This time, I asked my then boyfriend to come outside with me. I proceeded to wilt like a Southern Belle out on the sidewalk and slumped into his arms. At least I was outside where not very many people could see me passing out like a heroin addict. As it turned out,I was ok, except for feeling a bit melodramatic.

More recently, I went to see a sold out Slint show a couple weekends ago at the Showbox. It was packed, but we found a good vantage point by the bar in the back. We could see over all the heads of people sitting down and the people on the floor. But being up higher has a price. It was like the inside of a brick oven. And, true to form, I started feeling really hot (never wear a polyester blend knit shirt to a show - even if it does have a cool picture of a vintage Nascar on it.) Then my vision went fuzzy like a blanket of cotton batting was being draped over me.

Well, this time, I didn't ignore this feeling! (I know, I am a little slow on the uptake.) So I went to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet (since there was nowhere else to sit besides the floor - ew.) and I put my head between my legs. After that, I was fine and was able to enjoy the rest of the show without causing a scene.

So the moral of the story is not to ignore your body's little messages. If your body says, "Hey, it's f*cking hot in here, dipshit. Sit your ass down and put on some natural fibers for chrissakes." Then you should listen.