Farewell to the Pigs

Nine Inch Nails's final NYC show, at Terminal 5.

Trent Reznor's farewell club tour as he crowd-surfs out of the world of live music.

NIN sounded amazing. They played the fuck out of everything. (I'm sure someone has a set-list up somewhere.) I've seen NIN several times over the years and they know how to put on a show.

Dave and I found a nice perch up on the second balcony. Secured a choice spot at the railing, with a nice vantage overlooking the stage (evidenced above). It was a bit warm as the place was packed and people were crammed tight jockeying for the best sight line... but we were still enjoying a great show...

... until this crazy bitch wedged herself right in between me and Dave!

There was no room on this railing. We'd staked out our place early, as did everyone around us. People were packed body-to-body against that thing (I could almost feel the heartbeat of the girl next to me). And then maybe 45 minutes into the show, this absolutely unapologetic psycho-cunt decides she's gonna douche up the night by fucking PUSHING HER WAY IN.

It'd be one thing if she asked at all, but this shitty asshole just shoved her way between us. And when we didn't make room (because there was NO FUCKING ROOM), she just forcefully writhed her way in there. Dave—god love him—gave no quarter. And there was no way I was giving up my place. But it was Dave that she turned on. Words were exchanged. She tried to be a dick and stay there for a while until the physical discomfort of being wedged there must've taken its toll and she retreated like the disease that she was. (I oughta get tested for STDs, she was so close.)

For the second encore, Peter Murphy from Bauhaus literally dropped in:

The smoke-machine was so excessive, I initially thought it was either David Blaine or Marilyn Manson, though it sounded like neither.

I was really glad I saw the show, even though it served to highlight why I don't go to see live music so much anymore. You're paying quite a lot of money to be in a profoundly uncomfortable environment for a very long period of time... for the vague promise of witnessing some ephemeral once-in-a-lifetime moment or moments that may or may not happen.

I would like to make a lot of money so that I could afford to get away from all the people for a while. Somewhere far, far away. This is my dream.

(Ted Kennedy has a posse, but you knew that already.)