white tank: Seneca Rising mint top: under.ligne DOO.RI pants: American Apparel
What happened? Tattooed English metal band Bring Me the Horizon. Happens to be my little brother’s favorite band, which is beautiful music to my parents’ ears. If I wasn’t lucky enough already being friends with a strong, beautiful lady, Christina, who I met while living in Buenos Aires, she just happens to be friends with this band’s manager. It never occurred to me that this band was such a big deal to my little brother while I was touring with The Riverboat Gamblers from Austin, TX during the summer of 2010 on the same tour as Bring Me the Horizon. The thought of bringing my little brother to one of their shows on the summer tour never occurred to me. Probably because showering was always first on my mind. When my friend mentioned that they would be touring South America and making a stop in Buenos Aires, I recognized that this was a big second chance to do something special for my little brother. It was too short notice to fly him from Texas to Buenos Aires, Argentina, so going to the show and meeting the guys for a t-shirt signing would be a sufficient Christmas present for my little man. I unexpectedly got a lot more than a t-shirt with signatures. The band and crew were incredibly sweet and generous. They also have tons of loving fans that made it almost impossible to get into the shuttle that took us from the venue to the hotel room. Security had to hold them back from attacking the boys who all were in need of a shower. At the hotel were more fans, who either had been waiting there for hours or teleported from the venue and arrived before we did. From the hotel we were transported down to Puerto Madero where we would shock the patrons of a very shiny, elegant steak house. Tattoos, black denim, English accents, and long hair. Some of the reasons why I think we were sat in the room at the back of the restaurant with a view of the river and condo high rises. Or perhaps instead of trying to hide us they were trying to give our big group some privacy. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter after we devoured Argentine beef, seafood, pasta, and the buffet of desserts. Carrying bottles of wine out of the nice establishment we made it back into our shuttle, where more fans were waiting, and headed back to the hotel. We stayed up until dawn. So did the fans down on the street chanting up to the balcony that we occupied for cigarette smoking. Literally, the fans were there to farewell the band the next day on their way to the airport. The booze took over some of the guys, and then I realized what boys would do if they had sleepovers. They would build forts out of mattresses and furniture, and seek to destroy. I enjoyed every bit of it, except getting caught in the fort ( I’m claustrophobic). The next day was quite the adjustment to make. After showering, napping, and eating I looked at the photos of the night. I think my camera was a bit more drunk than I was. I’m blaming the blurry element on my camera, not me. Reminiscing of the night that I had, I realized that my Christmas present to my little brother isn’t that great. To me it says,”Hey little brother, I got to hang out at dinner and party with your rock star heroes in Buenos Aires, Argentina after being backstage at their show, but I got you this shirt that they all signed. Oh yeah, and this VIP backstage access laminate that you could have used if you were there, but I actually did get to use.” Perhaps I should also throw in a video game. What I’m really going to throw in is a future date that I’ll take him backstage to one of their shows in the U.S.. Then he won’t hate me, but love me forever.