Best. Concert. Ever. I could not get over how amazing the singer was.. I mean, they are just so so awesome live. I almost cried, overwhelmed with sheer awesomeness. There is seriously nothing cooler than going to see a band you’ve loved since high school, and one you thought would never ever come to NZ, and getting to sing (scream) along to all your favourite songs. I’d go watch that concert again and again and again.

Aaron and I caught a freaking 8am plane up (it was the only $39 flight I could get) and caught the bus to where some of the boys were staying. It was a little 3 bedroom apartment, cute, would have been nice. Except there were 10 of us staying there. 9 boys and me. Ha, I’m always the only girl. The crew were already hungover by the time we got there and we spent the rest of the day wandering round central Auckland, looking for skate shops. I always thought Wellington was the hilly city.. but damn we’ve got nothing on central Auckland. Some of those hills are killer. We found a cafe that was next to our apartment building. I can’t remember the name of it. Its on Symonds street, near Whitaker road, across the road from a statue of a half naked chick. Do not go there. EVER. JUST DON’T.

We half arssedly hit the alcohol, no one wanted to get too drunk. Everyone’s had a concert experience where they’ve been too drunk to remember it, and Bad Religion is a concert that you’d want to remember forever. There was a few arguments about when we should go. No one wanted to see the supporting bands. No one wanted to miss the start of BR. It was around about this time, my friend Scotty showed us the “blister” on his foot.
“Faark dude, that is not good. It looks hella infected”
“It really hurts – my whole leg hurts”
“I suggest you go to a doctors. Do it. Remember that time you left your ear infection for so long, your ear drum inverted?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine”.
Damn males and their machoness.

Disregarding Scotty’s frequent grumblings of pain, we went to the pub. Dust started to look a bit uncomfortable. “Do you think I stick out?”
“What?”
“I’m the only one wearing any colour”
And he was. There were hundreds and hundreds of people. Dust was the ONLY one wearing a blue jacket and orange teeshirt. Everyone else was punk black and bogan to the core.
“Errr, well that guy’s wearing red” I mumbled.
“He’s wearing a Strung Out teeshirt. Wearing other punk teeshirts don’t count. I have a picture of a bull on my shirt”
“Well a bull’s ok I guess”
“It also says ‘Ride the Bull’. Does that look gay?
“Well, maybe, in this context…no..I dunno, hey lets go in!”

It was packed. No passouts, no bag checks. Expensive alcohol. It was only when we got inside we saw the sign. “Due to a flight delay, Bad Religion will not be on until 11.30pm”. It was 8 o’clock. That 3 and a half hours SUCKED.
“This place is a sausage fest!” Fuzz exclaimed.
“This place would be a good place to score” I thought to myself. Some drunken punk tripped up a two stair and kicked me in the shin. “I wonder how many of these guys actually have jobs” was my second thought.

By the time the first supporting band came on we were just stoked to hear music. They were crap, but it didn’t matter. The second band were alright. Then Bad Religion just rocked so hard. I had a primo spot, right by the sound guys, a head above everyone else. I did not go in the pit. I am not suicidal. The band looked like they were just having so much fun, laughing with each other. I got the setlist off the sound guys which I was stoked about, I never get any cool shit at concerts.

After that, we headed back to the apartment and drank. We had Epic Sleeping Bag Argument. I snaked EK’s bed. He slept on the floor of the kitchen. Heh.

Poor Scotty ended up in hospital for 3 days. His blister wasn’t a blister at all, I was right, it was a mad infection. I think he’ll be home tomorrow.

MOAR photos.