San Bernardino, 2002

It was a Saturday night in July and despair was alive and circling through the warm summer air. The casualties were out making their rounds about the city: dealers, junkies, thieves, cops, pimps and whores; including the countries future, who needed something to do. Somewhere to unleash their hell. Tonight it would be at a small local venue called, The Blitz, where the local Cali punk bands played for anyone who would listen. It was an 18 and older venue though the teens always found their way in. My 16 year old brother had asked me to give him and his friends a ride. Enticing me with a 3-pack of Miller Lite tall-boys plus the cover charge, in case I wanted to stay. He had me with the beer. I was 22 and had nothing going on. My 17 year old girlfriend was busy working with the Redlands Police Department, participating in a community ride along. She wanted to be a cop. She told me this after we had hooked up. I called her deceitful, and that she'd make a great cop. She didn't like that and I didn't give a shit.

   So I packed the 7 teens into my '81 Toyota Celica coupe: 2 in the front, 4 in the back, the last in the trunk and we were off. It was a 4 mile drive to the place. We made it there with are lives. In the parking lot we drank our beers then rolled two joints and smoked. The kids had a lot to say. I leaned back and listened to them talk of how the politics and scum were ruining their schools, their city, and how it was only getting worse and nobody seemed to care. Seven Latino adolescents, worried about their future. They were great kids.

   We paid the $5 charge and walked in with no hassle. Inside we found a diverse crowd scattered throughout. It was all floor and one stage. Your Mom's Anus had just finished their set and The Patty Cakes were up next. An all-girl punk band from Stockton. My kids rushed towards the floor while I made my way to the side and leaned against the wall, observing the scene. That was my nature.

   When the band was ready they let the little bastards have it. A mosh pit quickly formed and it was raw and violent. The Patty Cakes played fast and mean. The lead singer looked sensational through the chaos: a mulatto chick dolled up in a torn white T, black leather skirt, fish nets and Doc's. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I could feel her passion through her raspy contralto. She had a filth and intelligence I adored. The girls ripped through their 2 minute ballads like it was their last show and the mob fell in love with them. I was in love with the singer.

   A crowd favorite,The Pedophiles from Yucaipa, came on next and the place exploded into a riot. Their fast-paced melodies like: Teacher Knows What I Like, Hey Mister Get Off My Sister!, and Sally Got Dragged Into An Ally drove them mad. A mosh-riot bonanza! It went on like this for some time. Band after band. I could see my brother moshing, laughing, having a great time.

   The final act was a Misfits cover band from Pomona: Die Die My Darling. The fog machine worked over the stage to the floor. They strutted out like the punk gods they admired, devilocks and all and the crowd broke into a ruckus. Through each song the band gave it their all. The mayhem was escalating. When the band covered: Mommy, Can I Go Out And Kill Tonight, I couldn't hold back and was in the midst of rushing in when, a surge of assholes came storming through the doors. Nazi Assholes! They each stomped from wall to wall looking for a fight, antagonizing everyone until they found it. I watched closely as the violence played out. I kept an eye on my brother and he was doing fine. It was his initiation to an all-out brawl. He had to learn and so I let him learn until a full grown man-Nazi (thick shouldered, shaved head and goatee) leaped onto his back and I snapped. My Inca blood went into a craze. I sprinted over and pulled the fuck down by his collar then dropped an elbow right in between his eyes. CRACK! He laid there in a daze. I threw my jacket off and next my shirt. I was on the hunt for more and found one circling the brawl, hile Hitlering bystanders and Wham! punched him dead on the cheek bone and he went flat. He never saw it coming. The crowd then teamed with security and finished the rest quick. The Nazi's were retreating. United, we cheeringly howled! The band next transitioned into a Dead Kennedy's classic, Nazi Punks Fuck Off! I joined the stampede and we celebrated our D-Day.

   After a few more songs I stepped out the victory pit to find my shirt and jacket. I found them lying on the floor, thrashed, my shirt covered in footprints. I threw it on and walked to the other side where there were less people, dragging my jacket. I was sweating like hell and very thirsty when someone passed me a flask. It was the lead singer of The Patty Cakes.

   "Thanks!" I said and took a drink. It was good whiskey.

   The green-eyed rebel replied, "Take another hit! You deserve it man! You're fucking wild!"

   I could feel myself turning red. I shrugged and took another hit then she grabbed me and kissed me real good. She tasted like booze and honey.

   After the show I packed the kids in and we followed her band back to a motel.

   Tomorrow's struggles could suck it.

   Tonight we were champions.

The End