#safetyiskey

A recurring presence at the show in the cafe was one very enthusiastic young man in the crowd. I recognized him, for he had a brief stint in being a tour guide with me; his name is fairly fuzzy to me, though. But let’s call him Mosh Man (which is incidentally also the name of the world’s most ineffective/hard-rocking superhero).

Anyways, Mosh Man was really into the music being played that night. So much so, in fact, that he started inciting low-level violence among the fellow audience members around in a ritual known to many as “moshing” (hence the moniker “Mosh Man”, you see).

The thing is, the crowd wasn’t really feeling in the moshing mood nearly as much as he was. He would jump, bounce, and shove around, hoping to get a trend going, but alas. Nobody would join in the moshing tonight.

That is, until the latter half of the night. The last band was playing, and Mosh Man was again trying to get an aforementioned mosh started among the crowd. And, my word, Mosh Man got his wish, to an extent. It was certainly among the calmest of moshes I had seen (also, the first I had seen in the flesh, so I know I don’t have much to compare it to), but it did what it needed to do. It made Mosh Man happy. We can’t always get what we want in life when we want it, but every once in a while we do, and I think that’s what Mosh Man was feeling that night.