“Oh, no,” Fern said. We were beside the driveway that would lead us to the back parking lot, but it was closed up with a big chain-link fence, and the gate was padlocked. Part of me was relieved. If we had been able to get back to the buses, what would we have done? Knocked on the door?
“Do you think they’re in there?” I asked.
“I’m sure they are,” she said. “But we aren’t getting in.”
“What do you think the chances are that they’ll be hanging out in some coffee shop nearby?”
“We can go look.”
Fern and I walked around the area. We had time to kill. Any patio we saw had no one resembling anyone in a band sitting on it. It seemed like we were out of luck. I was sort of feeling like a stalker anyway.
We chose one of the coffee shops and ordered ourselves some drinks and sandwiches. It would be too bad if we didn’t get to meet DED today, but at the same time, I mean, how many people get to meet bands anyway? We were lucky that we’d managed to run into Marie-Lise.
Fern and I spent the afternoon walking around. We went to a department store where we tried on some expensive makeup samples, a bookstore where we spent a few hours browsing and reading, and finally a small restaurant where we had dinner and got changed into our outfits for the show. Fern and I had always managed to have fun even back home walking around the downtown for hours, so wasting a full afternoon together in St. Charles was no problem.
It was early evening when we wandered back to Terminal 66, and there was a giant lineup out front. The sun was going down and it was getting chilly. I was glad I’d brought my sweater, pulling it on as we joined the end of the line.
When the line finally started moving and we got up to the doors, the security guy hollered at us, “No backpacks inside. You have to check them,” grabbing our tickets and ushering us inside. The lobby of the place was packed with people, some filing into the main room and some crowding around the coat-check area. Fern and I took our purses out of our bags and eventually managed to get up to the counter, where we had to pay five bucks each to check our backpacks.
“The CDs are in there,” Fern lamented.
“Yeah, so are our clothes.” But we had no choice, so we checked them, and then entered the main room.
The place was packed. Fern and I tried to find a place along the side of the room where we would be able to see the stage without getting pushed around. We finally found a decent spot, and as I surveyed the crowd, I thought I saw a few of the Torn Bowel guys on the floor. Before I could point them out to Fern, they were swallowed up into the mass of people. At least people-watching, and trying to see if I could find them again, was a way to pass the time before the show began.
There were two opening bands, both well received by the crowd but completely mediocre as far as I was concerned. I wished that we’d gotten this gig, but Fern explained that the two bands were on the same record label as DED and so they were probably on the tour with them to try to get them famous as well. It was more money for the record label that way. Well, I didn’t see them getting famous. They weren’t very good.
When the second band had finished, the room started to buzz. DED was next, and we watched some crew guys bring off the second band’s gear. DED’s stuff was set up behind it. The guys worked quickly, carrying the giant rack of weapons I’d seen on the internet videos. They pulled away a sheet to reveal the giant skull. The best part happened when the last band’s banner was pulled down, and DED’s giant banner was revealed beneath it. DIE EVERY DEATH was scrawled in giant letters, and the crowd cheered.
The room went completely dark. The cheer was deafening. There must’ve been a thousand people there, maybe more. Fern and I yelled too, adding our voices to the roar. Giant flames shot into the air from either side of the stage, revealing the five band members standing stock-still, each at their instruments, Balthazar centre stage.