notebookwriter
08-03-2011, 02:50 AM
We drove up and parked across the street. A crowd of people had gathered on the sidewalk, some spilling into the street and around the side of the building. The short squat building was in the heart of downtown. The windows had bars across them and the neon lights could be seen for blocks. The building had loud music and screaming voices bellowing from the walls.
The rest of downtime seemed to be painted with a orange-yellow glow by the street lamps. Looking left down the road the second and thirds story factory building's skywalks hung over the street. Once allowing factory workers the connivence of avoiding the busy streets below them, now just another piece of decrepit building. Looking right was the T cross of another street, with the maintenance exits of the hotel diagonally across the street, complete with dumpsters and all. Looking down the other streets at the crossroads was nothing but the dull buildings of the inner city, covered with a halogen mask.
The Sector was the only thing with any real color. The blue and green neon lights granting the people and road below with the joy of their reflections. We cut a way through the people and swung the door open, as we did we were immediately plagued with several ultraviolet lights. As we bought our tickets the UV lights fought with our shirts and eye whites, eventually taking a compromise and spraying us with a light blue. The smell of cigarette smoke that had caught us outside had fled and been replaced with the steady smell of music and sweat.
The wall was close on our right side but widened and became a wall clothed with band T-shirts. Asking prices varied and this became my friends first stop. I continued to mentally describe the interior as only a writer would. The walls were painted black, and the floors were a light gray, matching the ceiling. Fans hung low and spun fast but seemed to do nothing to settle the heat, the heat of numbers of people, jammed close. Down the left side of the ceiling the air vents hung and led down to the other end of the building. Above the people and then the stage their reflective surfaces were almost like a guiding path in and out.
Eventually, we moved up close to the stage. As the next band tested their equipment, and the people crowded in behind us, the feeling of music took everyones heart. The feeling of music that carried us, in full enjoyment, through the performance. We left with a joyous feeling, but as we left a building the colorful lights of the stage left us and we were again standing in the depressing halogen lights of the city.
The rest of downtime seemed to be painted with a orange-yellow glow by the street lamps. Looking left down the road the second and thirds story factory building's skywalks hung over the street. Once allowing factory workers the connivence of avoiding the busy streets below them, now just another piece of decrepit building. Looking right was the T cross of another street, with the maintenance exits of the hotel diagonally across the street, complete with dumpsters and all. Looking down the other streets at the crossroads was nothing but the dull buildings of the inner city, covered with a halogen mask.
The Sector was the only thing with any real color. The blue and green neon lights granting the people and road below with the joy of their reflections. We cut a way through the people and swung the door open, as we did we were immediately plagued with several ultraviolet lights. As we bought our tickets the UV lights fought with our shirts and eye whites, eventually taking a compromise and spraying us with a light blue. The smell of cigarette smoke that had caught us outside had fled and been replaced with the steady smell of music and sweat.
The wall was close on our right side but widened and became a wall clothed with band T-shirts. Asking prices varied and this became my friends first stop. I continued to mentally describe the interior as only a writer would. The walls were painted black, and the floors were a light gray, matching the ceiling. Fans hung low and spun fast but seemed to do nothing to settle the heat, the heat of numbers of people, jammed close. Down the left side of the ceiling the air vents hung and led down to the other end of the building. Above the people and then the stage their reflective surfaces were almost like a guiding path in and out.
Eventually, we moved up close to the stage. As the next band tested their equipment, and the people crowded in behind us, the feeling of music took everyones heart. The feeling of music that carried us, in full enjoyment, through the performance. We left with a joyous feeling, but as we left a building the colorful lights of the stage left us and we were again standing in the depressing halogen lights of the city.