"The girl in the wheelchair" speaks

http://www.echoingthesound.org/phpbbx/viewtopic.php?p=1557266#1557266
http://www.echoingthesound.org/phpbbx/viewtopic.php?p=1557459#1557459
http://www.echoingthesound.org/phpbbx/viewtopic.php?p=1558533#1558533
http://www.echoingthesound.org/phpbbx/viewtopic.php?p=1558591#1558591
http://www.echoingthesound.org/phpbbx/viewtopic.php?p=1558652#1558652

There has been some mild speculation and assumptions about my attendance at the NIN show in Philly. I am talked about on ETS by people who think they know what the deal was. They don't.

Let me begin by saying that 08.29.08 was my eighth NIN show, not my first. Eighth. My first show was in '96 when he toured with Bowie and you know where I was? Against the fucking rail. Off to the side and I was much smaller then, but I was against the rail. Eight shows in, I know what to expect. I know how it works. Of those 8 shows, I watched 6.5 of them either blocked by tall people too fucking rude to move or from a mile away in the bullshit handicapped sections designated at all the venues.

Two days before the Philly show, I attended the East Rutherford one. I had presale seat tickets that I TRADED for handicapped accessible seating. I TRADED my beautiful foiled presale tickets. The venue staff was MORE than kind to me. I was told to wait inside, not outside in the line with everyone else even though I was willing to. I'm always willing. I'm not some high and mighty ass that thinks they deserve special treatment. In fact, it kind of annoys me. While I was waiting, I happily listened to sound check through the door. I made friends with the venue staff also waiting around. Just before everyone was going to be let in, a bearded man came up to me and asked where I was sitting. I explained how I traded my tickets for something accessible and he told me "You shouldn't have done that. I would have found a better spot for you somewhere." Needless to say, I kicked my ass the rest of the night for doing the swap. Not only did I miss out on having a better seating arrangement, but I also lost out on being able to have pretty presale tickets to add to my collection.

When Philly came I had bought presale GA tickets. Because of what happened in East Rutherford, I was determined to NOT trade in my tickets and just deal with what came about when it was time. When I arrived at the box office the woman gave me a very hard time, saying wheelchairs are not allowed on the floor, that I HAVE to trade my tickets, that there is no elevator down and then refused to give them to me. The fact that she kept calling me "honey" did not help things.

I would like you to momentarily put yourself in my position. Remove the wheelchair fact... if someone was refusing to give YOU what you PAID for and telling YOU that you cannot go where you PAID to go, how would you react? I think most people would go insane. Few people would nod and smile through that. I told the woman, in the nicest way I could muster that I'm aware of the situation, but I PAID for GA tickets so she should give me what I paid for and that I'll deal with where I sit when I get inside. Tickets gotten, and so I wait again. Like East Rutherford, venue staff told me to wait inside and not out in the line with everyone else.

I had no plan. All I knew is that I did not want to trade these foiled tickets again for a piece of paper. I figured I'd get inside, get a wristband, ask around where I should go and end up in the back of the GA floor far from any action. We asked an event staff guy if there was an elevator inside to get down to the floor and he said "Oh yeah, when you go in, just take a right and it's by section 110." The bitch at the box office lied to me.

I was let in first and the wristband woman refused to give me a wristband despite my ticket saying GA on it. A mild argument ensues because, again, they do not want to give me what I PAID for. Again, ask yourself how you would react. Meanwhile, my 14 year old, 5', 100lbs niece WAS able to get a GA wristband even though she herself could be labeled as small and "helpless" in that crowd. No one gave a rats ass about her "safety" or any other small girl's safety. Meanwhile, I have a fucking metal barrier around me to protect me from getting crushed to death.

We go to speak to the event supervisors who simply keep repeating "No wheelchairs are allowed on the floor" and "You have to go to Guest Services". When asked why, they just said it's their "policy". When asked if I could sign a waiver, they refused. When asked if I had a cane and not a wheelchair would I be allowed down there, they shrugged their shoulders. When asked if there was an elevator that would be able to take me down to the floor, they said yes but I wasn't allowed to use it. Let me stress that I was NOT asking to be in the front. I was simply asking to be allowed down there, anywhere. Anyone who has ever been to any show knows that the back of the floor is always, always clear and safe. I have never once in my 30 years and 100+ shows ever seen a GA floor totally packed to the back with people.

Frustrated, we head to Guest Services, which is closed. The more the seconds tick, the more angry I become. They have the means to allow me to be where I PAID to be. I said I would sign anything they wanted me to sign so they would not be responsible if anything should happen. I look around and see the GA line forming inside. No one is being let in yet since sound check is still going on. I have a ballsy thought, "What if we just... go into the elevator and push down instead of up?" We walk around the arena to the elevator, security everywhere, no one stopped us. In the elevator, down is pushed. It opens into an underneath area/tunnel filled with equipment. I pass security on my way through and they do nothing but smile at me. I reach the GA floor where there is a simple movable metal barrier. I can see the stage. Sound check is still happening. Security is wandering, getting ready. I decided to just wait in the tunnel until everyone else starts to come in because it's the right thing to do. Justin Meldal-Johnsen passed me in the tunnel and did a smile/nod while we waited. Security saw me there and never asked me to leave.

People start filing in and I pass through the barrier. I pass security who are simply looking at wristbands. I quickly scan the people against the rail and see a strong looking guy and a tall girl. I ask if I can please squeeze between them since I'm short and they seemed to have no problem with it. It's then that I realize I am DIRECTLY in front of Trent's mic. I quickly recall my experience in Baltimore and how amazing it was, how loving everyone around me was, how they fought for me so I could stay up there in the front. This was way closer than Baltimore and my excitement grew, but I also knew what we were in for. Crowd surfers falling over my head, shoving, pushing, surges, pits close by... but we have done this before, front and center. I also figured that an all NIN crowd would be more respectful than the one in Baltimore who consisted of a bunch of different types of people. I thought it would become a family up there, everyone fighting for the same cause, like it was in Baltimore. Little did I know...

I tried to make friends with the people to my left and right. I told the guy next to me that I was thankful he was there. I talked to the tall girl, who simply called dibs on marrying Trent Reznor. Vic (not my father) was behind me talking up a storm to the guys back there. He also tried talking to the tall girl next to me who said in a snotty way "I wish you luck, man" but what do you want from someone who thinks Trent would marry them.

I feel I should say that I am a NIN fan to the core. 15+ years worth. Mr. Reznor is not my God or my Idol. I respect him far too much to give him silly labels like that. His music has been the soundtrack for half of my life. The ability to be close to him while he sings these songs that are so deeply ingrained in me is profound. I don't want to be close because I think he's sexy or because I think he'll fall in love and marry me. I don't want to touch him, yell things at him, throw shit at him, lick him or any other such nonsense. I do, however, want the connection that you can't get from across an arena.

His intro music came on and my nervousness and excitement was off the chart. He came blasting out ready to kick everyone's ass. The energy was insane. He scanned the front row while he sang. He paused on me. He wasn't looking over my head, to my right or my left... it was me. That one moment of connection, just a moment, is what I waited 15 years for and it finally happened. I teared up with joy and I had all I ever wanted right then. He kept his eyes on me at different periods through the first song. I know many, many fangirls always think the singer is looking at them. I'm aware of how it sounds. But from Mr. Reznor's perspective, there was an odd hole in front of him in the crowd. He would look to see why. He would see a small me right there.

The crowd, though moving, was just fine. I was just fine. I was in my bliss, happily singing along. Things stayed pretty okay until March of the Pigs when the giant shove happened and my knees implanted themselves into the barricade. The force caused me to bend at the waist and I bumped my chin off the barricade. Still, I was okay and not scared. I was, however, wondering what happened to fans who are a family and in it together. Everyone was simply for themselves, aside from a chosen few. The assholes overpowered things though. I've come to learn there was a "1-2-3-PUSH" thing going on and that's what I got directly on my knees. I read many complaints about people in the crowd being disrespectful. Pick-pockets, rude frat guys, guys pulling down girl's shirts.

During the chaos, I looked at Trent to see he was watching me. He sang, he performed but he also watched. He saw a problem and watched me until it was taken care of.

The decision to leave was because I feared the safety of my niece, not myself. I was fine. She took the brunt of the shove. We signaled and before I could even grab my own control box to move out of there,  I was through the crowd.

I read that someone said I looked "scared shitless" but I don't know when that could have been. Bewildered is what I think I was. Perhaps that person looked at me in the moment my knees got crushed, I don't know. Scared is not what I was. Happy, excited, in the moment... but not scared. I knew what I was getting into. It wasn't anybody's idea except my own.

Maybe it was stupid. That's up for debate. But you see, I am a firm believer in the universe. I believe things line up for a reason and when I see the opportunity to follow that flow, I do it. If there's one thing I have always had, it's balls. It's a gutsy, ballsy move to go against the grain and that's exactly what I did. I didn't roll over and submit when someone told me no. I demanded the same respect everyone else has and I did it with a smile. I thought other people would see that determination in me the evening of the show and that I deserved to be up there just like everyone else. Little did I know, I was seen as stupid and helpless, in the way and a problem. People thought it was Vic's call, thinking that I don't have a mind of my own. Not one person thought, "Wow that was stupid, but SHIT does that girl have balls!" No one.

After leaving the floor, I watched the rest of the show from the designated shit handicapped seats. This was, by far, the most emotional show I've been to. I connected, deeply. I would not, for any reason whatsoever, go back and change my actions. To those who were so very, VERY inconvienced because I was not where I belonged... suck my dick.

See you all in VA!