My first concert ever was Kim Mitchell in 1986 or maybe 1987; their hit at the time was Patio Lanterns. I remember the experience clearly, because I had recently tie-dyed my Levis jean jacket and after the concert, I asked the band to sign the back with a black magic marker. I was super proud that I had gotten all band members’ signatures too! I had planned to check out the signatures at home and ran over to dad's truck excited to spread my jacket out on my bed. I was running high on adrenaline when I got home and told Big M about the autographs and then spun around so she could see them.
….and promptly laid my jacket on my bed… then nearly died in a fit of giggles.
The bass guitarist was the one who asked me to bend over so he could sign it first, I remember him asking if he could just sign anywhere and I said “Of course!” He placed a giant arrow from the middle of my shoulder blades down to about the top of my waist, then wrote “Nice Ass, Michelle” and signed his name. I was in 7th grade, so about 13. I was addicted to live music from then on, but not one single rock band ever returned to The North while I resided there.
My second ever concert was Moist at a little bar called Zaphod Beeblebrox in Ottawa in August of 1993. Their big hit back then was Push but this concert was just before they actually made it big – they were kinda nobody but had a catchy sound. Turns out, I would hang out at Zaphod’s probably more than at Le Bop in Hull, Québec. Every Tuesday night they had live music for a $2 cover and served cheap pints of lime and lager. I was a regular here from Sundays to Wednesdays unless there was a band I really wanted to see. I liked Mondays here because at 18:00, they had a Bingo game but your prize was beating shit up with a bat… like a broken TV.
Seeing Moist is not actually why I remember this particular evening in August 1993; I remember it for several reasons. First, I remember being incredibly thankful for always wearing my 8-holes to bars, this evening, the floor in the “pit” was flooded with at least 3” of beer. Second, I remember the point I blacked out drunk, but before that happened; and thirdly, I remember deciding it would be a GREAT idea to see what pepper spray felt like and sprayed the entire left side of my face. If you were ever curious, it turns your face into one giant leather blister; worse for me is that it caused shingles to break out and it stuck around for a really long time. This was also my first 18+ concert and it was everything I had imagined and sooooooo much more! My senses were overloaded, I felt super high – an adrenaline high – I was getting hit-on left and right and centre and my endorphins were definitely on overdrive.
This was my introduction to Frosh Week: drinking, concerts, working, boys, more drinking and blackouts for an entire week. At least I always woke up at home in my own bed. Yvon and I got together regularly and became best friends. In October of 1993, I received a call from Jack saying they were coming to visit for Thanksgiving. I was really looking forward to seeing them because I figured we were all adults now; soon I would turn 20. I remember when they showed up, the vibe I could feel coming off them was all wrong and I had all sorts of red flags screaming at me that this, none of this was right; I assumed they’d been fighting the whole drive down. At that moment, I was happy that I hadn’t cancelled any shifts and my feelings of guilt vanished when I saw that nothing had changed. They were here to yell at me.
Interestingly, they didn’t yell at me; what they did do was take a mental inventory of everything in my apartment. I knew they would search every nook and cranny before they left so anything I deemed “punishable” was being stored at the Superintendent’s apartment across the hall. I think he thought I was hot because he was much older and said yes, to whatever I asked. While my parents visited, he held on to my carton of cigarettes and that was pretty much it. My parents weren’t even planning on staying for actual Thanksgiving dinner, in fact; I came home from school or work and they’d already left. I was over the moon until I went to my bedroom to change and noticed they had stolen nearly 25% of my clothes.
The next day, after Jack and Big M got home, Roxanne called me to ask why I sent my clothes home to her. I explained that I had not; the clothes had been removed from my closet without my knowledge while I was out. I didn’t even really ask myself any questions because this was normal behaviour for them.
Every week I performed duty, what I called ‘calling home to talk to the parental unit’ and pretend to be interested in their daily lives; they really only liked to talk about themselves, their friends, and people I had never even met. I noticed that something felt off because they were not engaging with me, they dismissed me, both of them, within 5 minutes.
One day when I called and Jack wasn’t home; Big M told me I quite obviously had too much money based on the amount of magazines, CDs, etc. I owned. Then she hung up. I didn’t connect the dots at the time that what she meant was that I was on my own now. I had tried to explain that, had she bothered to look at the dates on the magazines, she would have noticed that each one of them had been purchased by her and gifted to me via monthly subscriptions. I’m not a big magazine person and I used them as décor in my apartment, to be honest.
The relationship between my parental unit and I disappeared, seemingly overnight. I continued about my student life, working, partying, and doing my school work. I would occasionally receive a call asking about my grades, usually I didn’t know until I received them in the mail; I didn’t live on campus and was not aware grades were posted on Classroom doors (it would have helped if I attended class). Regardless, those calls were sparse, rare, and usually served to “put me in my place”. I just accepted the behaviour, as … who they are. I didn’t realize Big M had a far more cunning plan for me.
In January 1994 over the winter break, I was going to Le Bop more often because the drinks were cheaper and I liked the music much better. On one particular evening, I happened to notice a really hyperactive guy that I’d never seen here before. He was new but he seemed to know all the staff. I inquired about who he was and discovered he used to be a regular before moving to Vancouver; but he was back in Ottawa now. Ethan, the bouncer introduced us by adding, “You’re perfect for each other.” I soon discovered what he meant.
Up until this point in my life, not one single person had been able to keep up with me. Not one person… not even a very famous asshole Flyers’ hockey player. I could drink anyone under the table and my drink of choice was the boilermaker (with a shot of bourbon). In fact, I remember Mr. Flyers’ reaction when I turned him down… apparently he wasn’t used to that and then I got him banned from the bar – Ethan and I were friends and he always looked out for this stupid little girl who always got black-out drunk. Always – he never let anything happen to me; except one time when I got in a bar fight and broke a couple ribs blocking a chair. It’s not an interesting story - some guy hit-on me and would not leave me alone; his girlfriend decided I was the problem; I .. um… strongly objected, objects were thrown, the more you laugh at someone the more pissed they get… so I ended up with broken ribs.
Back to Mr. Vancouver, he definitely piqued my interest because he matched me drink for drink and smoked the same brand of cigarettes I did; plus he hated his parents and got kicked out at a young age. BINGO! I found a winner! He came home with me that night and never left. He had moved back to Ontario from BC with nothing and I was looking to start a new life, a new family complete with (and in this order): a degree, good job, a fantastic man who wants to protect me and take care of me, travel, maybe children [read sex with a regular human without getting an STD to start].
In March of 1994, my sister was in Ottawa with the Rotary Club and I went to visit her with my new boyfriend Neall. She called him a coke-head and we all laughed… I thought she was rude to laugh at him for having a very obvious Jewish nose. But no, Neall admitted to me much later that he left Vancouver to escape his cocaine addiction. How am I this gullible? Neall charmed Roxanne, Monique, and even Trevor when they met.
In April 1994, Treble Charger opened for Moist at Zaphod’s and Neall and I went together. I remember the staff being shocked to see that not only did we know each other but that we were dating AND living together. I absolutely fell in love with Treble Charger’s live set. Neall got stupid drunk and ended up leaving the show early and I stayed behind; bought the bands’ CDs and got them all signed at the end of the show. I remember the massive disappointment I felt when I later listened to Treble Charger’s CD I absolutely hated it and traded the autographed CD in for a Tea Party CD titled Splendor Solis, and 29 years later, is still my favourite CD/Album ever created in the history of music.
After the Treble Charger concert, I realized that this crowd, the people I danced next to, drank next to, didn't speak to, but still had this unspoken bond with over a fantastic musical experience, were, MY PEOPLE.
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