I went. Took up a position far in the back, as far from the sounds as possible. Music and static swirled around like windy dust devils. The singer would have sounded better through a cordless phone (the old kind) and we sat in the blasted out darkness. Two things made it bearable. First, the leather booty. The sonic mayhem (not the good kind) melted into the background as she took up a position conversing in front of us. It was just us and tight leather. We focused on it like we were goslings imprinting on our mother goose. Second, a trip outside, to find darkness and grass, to lay flat, and imagine myself glued to the side of a dirtball in space, and to the sound of the great machinery that powers the sky i lay and thought 'we make lights to answer the stars'