How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Three: Showroom

What I wouldn't have given for a pencil and some paper right then.

The 1970s. I'd been dreaming of coming here since I was a young teenager in high school and now it had finally happened. The fashion, the shops, the technology....I wanted to bottle it all up and take it home with me. Or at least be able to write down what I was seeing so I could use it for my story. This was perfect research!

On my trek through whatever Australian city I was in I walked past a music shop with guitars hanging on the wall and accessories on display. Inside were three girls looking at a few guitars and one of them held a pack of strings. I'd recognize them anywhere. 

Marie pointed at a mint green Stratocaster and said something I couldn't understand. I hid around the corner of the shop so they wouldn't see me. They'd be coming out anytime and possibly start on their way to the Showroom Bar. I pulled the loose change out of my pocket. There were a few notes included but I still worried it wasn't enough. Ticket prices in the seventies were way less than in my time, but even so...

The door opened and I heard the three girls laughing. I jumped behind a bush and winced as the branches scratched my exposed skin. They walked across the street, Marie pocketing her new strings and saying something about B.B. King. Waiting until they turned a corner I stepped out of the bush and brushed away leaves and twigs from my hair. "Eugh!" I said, batting away a bug on my shoulder. I crept down the street after them, hoping to keep enough distance between us so they wouldn't suspect anything. Luckily for me, right there at the end of the block was a bar with the word "Showroom" in large, loopy, red letters. I froze where I stood. 

If I remembered correctly, the drinking age in Australia was eighteen. These girls couldn't have been more than fifteen. But after all, this was 1978. Maybe the rules were a bit more lax. They walked right in, showing their tickets to a man standing out front. He inspected them and nodded, letting them pass. No ID check or anything. Well, if it were that easy...

But I still didn't have a ticket. Hmm....

Next to the man was a small booth with two women selling tickets to a small line of people. The sign at the top of the booth said $3.00. I pulled my money out and counted out three one dollar notes. I'd have to thank past me for putting money in my pocket the other day.

When it was my turn to buy a ticket I handed the money over and she took it rather swiftly, shoving a ticket in my face. They really meant business around here. I took my ticket and stepped out of line before the next guy could squash me. Sauntering up to the bar and crossing my fingers, I showed my ticket to the man by the door. He looked it over and nodded his head. I hurried inside before he could see the giddy smile on my face.

It was busy inside, with a good amount of people ordering drinks at the bar. Most people were standing around talking with drinks in their hands or wearing handmade AC/DC merch. A couple of women had a giant poster with AC/DC written in glitter. There were quite a few men in this place, most of whom had long hair and t-shirts. I kept to myself, hoping not to bump into anyone as I made my way through the crowd. 

I couldn't find Marie and her friends anywhere. What I did see was a small stage at the back of the bar all set up for a band to perform. Someone spoke through a microphone and I turned this way and that to find the source of the voice. The feedback was loud and even after it was fixed I didn't quite understand him. But everyone around me clapped and cheered so I played along. When the lights dimmed I could see glimpses of people walking up and down the stage. The crowd murmured and hushed waiting for the big moment.

Let me tell you. When people say this band is loud, they mean they're fucking loud.

I couldn't believe my own ears. Here they were, in the flesh, playing a concert right in front of me, and I still couldn't believe it. It was difficult to see at times but once in a while I could see someone running across the stage, his tie flying in all directions. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't see his face or I would have melted into a puddle. 

Nothing prepared me for the rush of seeing this band, my favorite band of all time, live in the seventies. Nothing. And when Bon took to the microphone...

I put my hands over my mouth to hold in the squeal. There in front of all of us, was the man who died in 1980. And he was still alive, singing his heart out. I needed to sit down. I needed to take a deep breath. 

Phil and Cliff were up there too and that alone was enough to make anybody swoon. And to the very left of the stage was Malcolm. 

The Malcolmest Mitchell who ever Younged. 

Also still alive and playing his guitar like the badass he was. Once in a while a bright light would shine on each of the band members and the crowd roared with delight. I caught a quick glimpse of Angus and had to look away for fear of passing out. There was a reason all my fanfics were about him...

Some women next to me were crying and I almost joined them. What a fantastic story this would make....I'd be writing for days, trying to add every single little detail and worrying I was writing too much. Writing about how after the first song Malcolm reached over and picked up a can and took a drink. The way Angus' sneakers came untied and he had to fix them or the way Phil had to change a drum out in the middle of the show. 

I heard a man's voice behind me squeezing his way through the crowd. There was something in his hands and men and women alike were reaching out to him, once in a while getting what they wanted. He stopped a few feet away from me and looked around at the screaming and crying frenzy of people surrounding him. He handed something off to a woman next to me with black hair and hoop earrings and she screamed for joy. I winced at the volume and turned back to watch the show when someone tapped on my shoulder. It was the man passing things around. "How old are you?" he asked.

Thinking I was about to get carded and thrown out, my heart started to race. I looked rather young for my age and he probably didn't believe for one second that I was old enough to be in there. But if Marie and friends got in so easily... I swallowed. "Twenty four."

After looking me over for a second he handed me something and walked through the crowd, avoiding the grabbing hands. I looked down at my hands to see what on earth he had handed me and what the crowd seemed to be killing each other for. 

In my hands was a little slip of paper in a plastic packet labeled 'Backstage Pass'.