ATL Continued!

*Correction: My last blog entry incorrectly stated that I drive an '07 Chevy. In reality, I drive a Dodge and I have a very loose grasp on vehicular identity.

Anyway, there we were (late as always) and at several points during All Time Low's set, I sincerely believed some of the audience members wouldn't make it out alive. (Of course, the obnoxious people in front of me who insisted on having their hands in the air for the duration of the set unfortunately were not harmed at any point. It's fun, I know. You wanna throw your hands up, we all do. And it's okay. But seriously, you're going to drain all the blood out of your hands and arms and then when you meet the band after the show, you won't be able to hug them because your bloodless arms will be useless. I'm just thinking of you. And me.) Alex Gaskarth stopped the show no less than twice to make sure the throngs of ATL-ophiles weren't going to crush each other to death.

Having comfortably watched the Mayday Parade set from the balcony, we wandered downstairs for ATL and at more than one point I was afraid that the shaking balcony was going to collapse, ruining my hair and my skeletal integrity. The ground was shaking like a fault line--I've never experienced an earthquake firsthand, but I have a sneaking suspicion that's what it would feel like. But the show wasn't all about fear, it was a seriously good time. The jokes were filthy and frequent, as is their trademark, and the songs were all kinds of awesome.

And I didn't have to hike three miles to a parking garage. That's what I call a good night.