We went to see I the Mighty, who already played, and didn't care to be in the crowd for the other bands.
The music sounded loudly with the double pedal going and the singer screaming incoherent lyrics that only actual fans would be able to understand.
Karen and I must have been two of only a handful of 21-plusers there because we were outnumbered by those with dark black X's on their wrist.
The miniature pit opened up, and about eight people worked to shove each other back and forth to the beat of the music, as all do in standard mosh form.
We bobbed our heads to the music, looking out at the crowd on their feet, but in an instant, a girl who wasn't in the mosh, was knocked back on the ground.
She fell in what seemed to be slow motion. I heard the sound of her head hitting the hard ground over the thrashing music.
The crowd reacted.
Karen and I froze, looking at each other as the girl's friends scrambled to help her up, making sure she was OK.
Once she got to her feet, she rubbed her head, squinted her eyes and held her (I assume) boyfriend's hand. The Koolaid-redhead adjusted herself and continued bobbing her head to the music.
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