And it fucking ruled. I caught a guitar pick (first time ever) from Mustaine, got some fucking idiot's blood smeared on my arm after he got his drunk ass eye punched open, got the bass player's autograph, and got to drink scotch with a cute girly girl, who originally made the suggestion for the show as a first date.
It was, however, the fightiest concert I've ever been to. I don't know what happened in the Seattle water since the last three times I've seen them, or the numerous times I've seen Maiden, Priest, Gwar, Rush, X, Hole, Manson, and some band I don't remember where I punched open a guy's temple; but, man, where people ready to fight.
But, we were in the second row of crushed bodies and I didn't have to punch anyone in the yabbles. It worked out pretty well.
In case you think it's all rock concerts, scotch, and porn, I did spend the next day playing in an old west D&D adventure (playing Al Swearengen) and running a Call of Cthulhu adventure. Sunday I watched the Seahawks and practiced with my flag football team. So fuck you, presumptions. Fuck you right in the ear. 
