Saint Valentine's Day Massacre
The night was February 14th, nineteen hundred and eighty-nine. It was a beautiful chilly evening in London Town. I had tickets to the Godfather's annual Saint Valentine's Day Massacre Concert:
Little did I know what true insanity lay ahead.
I went with my boyfriend at the time, and a girlfriend I had made on the scooter circuit. The crowd was much larger than I expected, and as most shows were in London at the time, it was general admission - in other words, every woman for herself. It seemed as though things were going well when I dragged my petite friend closer to the stage: "let's see how close we can get!". I was wearing a new black and white paisley silk scarf, (gifted to me by my boyfriend for Valentine's Day), over my tidy navy silk sheath, black wool coat and, of course, black ankle boots. All was right with the world.
That is, until the music started.
When the first chord was strummed, the otherwise seemingly civilized crowd turned into a seething human tsunami. My friend grabbed my scarf in an effort to stay above water, but she and my scarf were pulled under. Due to my height, I was able to rush back before being completely trampled, but my poor petite friend...she was alright in the end...we found her after a bit of searching. She was a little bloodied, but the sad part is that my beautiful scarf never re-surfaced. Sigh. ;)
I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but it was actually one of the best shows I've ever seen or heard, and was one of the best nights of my life. Long live the semi-civilized mosh pit (I wouldn't want anyone to *actually* get hurt), and the music of the Godfathers.