Mosh Pit At My Church

As they walked together in the shadow of a building, Sam had noticed Reina's customized shoes.
"Nice Chucks," he'd said casually. Inside, he envied those dusty black Chuck Taylor's with the yellow and green plaid interiors. Sam was not one to reveal such an emotion. He had grown used to a subdued sort of bragging, to which his good looks saved him from the label of his particular habit. He looked again at Reina's feet; one shoe lace was lined with ladybugs and the other was bright red. Both were tied in such a fashion that she could slip her tiny feet out of her shoes whenever she wanted. As he looked at the white toe area, a question rose and he couldn't help but ask;
"Are those drawings?"
Seeming to know exactly what he was asking about, she turned and smiled very demurely, as if remembering something delightful.

"There I was, at the entrance of our church, with masses of teenagers waiting in groups. I approached the entrance as guys on skateboards nearly ran me over, circles of friends shared inside jokes and hip kids just stood around trying to look cool while they waited for the doors to open. I went into the lobby and somebody barks, 'Ticket!' and yanks at my arm to give my hand an ink-stamp...the nerve of these people, Sam... Anyway, the merchandise stands were already set up, and people, smart people, mind you, Sam, were already buying a world of posters and stickers, and cd's and t-shirts to take home to their rooms. I strolled around a little, chatted with familiar faces. Like some people, I was there for the music.

"Aimless chatter aggrandized (big word!) into excited talk as people poured into that sanctuary...The biggest amplifiers I have ever seen on stage, man." She used her arms to illustrate exactly what she meant. "And they were stacked on top of each other like a buncha building blocks! I and a group of friends used our sweaters to save some seats, and walked around some more, finding people to mosh with...you know, when the time came. There were a lot more adults than I expected, then again, it was a church sponsored concert. The atmosphere was electric though. I was actually a bit scared of what would happen, come to think of it.

"Finally all were shooed back to their seats by some dope with a microphone, only to get up again as the first band came out on stage. So, the audience floods towards the stage like rain on a windshield, pouring down to the lowest point; the altar, the mosh pit, you know. And no matter what kind of music it was, it was all the same. The sound waves would beat through us, the rhythms pulsed along with our hearts, and we would scream, scream back at the singer. This was the kind of adrenaline I wanted. The act of headbanging to electric guitars and drums held an alacrity that I couldn't get enough of, man.

"So much happened within those hours...my friend kate passed out because someone punched her in the stomach, (stop laughing! I'm not kidding.) I was almost flattened by this big kid in front of me, and some weirdo guy asked me for my number. (So you think that's funny? Well, I ran away from him, fyi. You don't have to worry, Sam.) Anyway, the music was over, so everyone was getting autographs. I hadn't bought any pictures or poster or anything, and I didn't have any paper, so I got some signatures on my shoes." She held up her right foot, the converse slid off her heel, and dangled. There were, indeed, scribbled names on the toe.

Sam looked at Reina for a long while, then glanced admiringly over her worn in shoes. "You talk alot," he said.