So, yeah, the Summerbash.

First of all, we got there about two hours early, because the kids were ridiculously hyper and excited, and a pre-party was promised.

The pre-party wound up being a few scant booths in the Toyota Center parking lot and a stage on which a very small boy was rapping. People seemed to be into the small boy/rapper, but I was more into the fact that they were giving out free samples of Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee, because I knew that this was the only free shit I would score all damned day.

After waiting in line for a while and watching the two 14-year-old poster children for Abercrombie and Fitch in front of me make out furiously until I was nauseous, we entered the arena.

The first thing I noticed was a margarita stand. Strange, I thought, since nearly everyone I saw looked underage, and I figured I’d only see the odd beer vendor.

I was so, so wrong.

This place was packed to the max with alcohol. Mai tai stands, rum runner booths, vodka lemonade stands, margarita joints, all at the low low price of at least ten dollars a drink. Beers ran from eight to twelve dollars depending on the brand and who you bought them from.

Needless to say, I only had one eight-dollar beer, and that one hurt my little Jewish heart quite a bit as it went down.

The kid from down the street was sent to the show with only twenty dollars, but of course he wanted a t-shirt, which were twenty-five. I was faced with a dilemma. Should I let the little miscreant buy a shirt, floating him five dollars to do so and then pay for his food and drinks the whole evening? Or should I say, “Hell, no,” and make him buy his own food and drinks, which he actually didn’t have enough money for in the first place?

I let him buy the fucking shirt.

Pushover?

Yes.

I also bought the J-Man a shirt.

Total spent so far after only walking a few feet into the venue: 30 dollars.

We found our seats, which weren’t too bad, and sat down. B96 on-air personalities came out every so often and screamed at the crowd, and they had a few deejays spin some tunes, which weren’t too bad.

The opening act was a boy band that I believe was called Wow, but I was so disinterested in them that I can’t be bothered to check. They stomped around for a while with sound effects and sang about three songs. One had a pink Mohawk. It makes me sad to see old punk culture raped so by the current generation. If an old school punk had taken one look at this kid he would have turned him inside out and nailed his three-hundred-dollar tennis shoes to his liver.

I’m probably not listing the acts in order, but you’ll have to forgive me. I was more interested in watching the fact that the crowd (which was ninety percent little white girls, by the way) was drinking like fish. I saw a few people get carded, but not many, and people were ordering multiple drinks to bring back to their underage friends. It was ridiculous.

They should have called it SummerSmashed.

The next act – I think – was JLS. This was a cute little English boy band/R&B act that kept me mildly interested for a few minutes.

Between acts, we were shown both commercials and videos. I didn’t mind the videos, but fuck if I am going to enjoy watching commercials after paying exorbitant Ticketmaster prices. That was bullshit.

The New Boyz were a rap act that had very low pants. One of these guys had his pants belted directly under his ass and had to keep holding them up so that they wouldn’t fall, which was comical. He was running and dancing and holding his pants as if he had a load in there.

This is what America’s youth finds attractive, people.

Perez Hilton came out to introduce his pet act, Travis Garland, and told a long, rambling. awkward story about Lady Gaga that made him seem, well, awkward. I have nothing but love for Perez, but he was not in top form at the B-Bash.

Also? Nobody seemed to give a shit about poor Travis Garland. The crowd was not wowed.

One act I enjoyed was Iyaz. He was a rapper, so I did surprise myself a little there, but he was good, and then he was joined by a cute Asian girl named Charice, and they did a couple duets, and they had good rapport and were pretty talented.

More DJs, more spinning, more commercials.

At some point, a very, very high individual started to run through our row of seats, high-fiving people and grabbing people’s hands and ruffling people’s heads. I would surmise he was on ecstasy, because he had that dazed sort of smiley look about him. At one point, he tried to high-five Norton; and Norton, who was not quite having the time of his life, was not having any of it. So, he grabbed my hand. I played along, and then he moved a row down, where there was a concrete ledge that dropped down about six feet. High Guy almost fell off of that ledge about ten times, and people started nodding for security. We saw him being dragged out of the show about ten minutes later.

Druggies are fun.

Cascada was up next – I think – and I have to say I probably enjoyed her performance the most. She was another Brit performer who sang and danced to a number of songs I do not know, have never heard of, and probably will never hear again, but the J-Man knew them all, was singing them at top volume, and was going insane. So, Cascada. Not bad.

More DJ spinning, more commercials, more digging into my wallet for food, Gatorades, Dippin’ Dots. With the amount of money I spent on this concert, I could have taken a nice trip somewhere.

Jason Derullo was talented and also very fun to watch, because A) he could sing, and B) he took his shirt off.

By this point in the evening (about five and a half hours in), everyone was drunk. EVERYONE. All the little white girls were going white girl crazy from their vodka lemonades, plus whatever they’d already ingested in the parking lot. It was a crazy scene, and I was starting to get a little nervous for the kids.

The kid from down the street was totally overwhelmed, I could tell. He sat, bug-eyed, taking it all in, just staring.

The J-Man was rolling with it, dancing, laughing, and singing his fool ass off.

The drunk girls were beginning to gather into groups and hump each other wildly. Norton left for the safety of the vehicle.

Finally, it was time for the main act – Ludacris.

Ludacris hit the stage, and people lost their damn minds. I am not kidding. The arena was a sea of waving hands and screeching white girls.

Ludacris began to yell “LUDA!” and the white girls began to screech “CRIS!” This went on for about, oh, twenty minutes. After that, Ludacris began to rap.

I am sure Ludacris is a very good rapper, but I did not know any of the songs and could not tear my eyes away from the drunkenness. All around me, everyone was dancing and stumbling and humping (even the beer vendor), and all I could think was, “Shit, I have GOT to get these kids out of here.”

“Two more songs,” I said. “That’s it.”

The kids moaned a little bit, but I think they didn’t protest a lot because they also were starting to see the gravity of the situation. No one wants to be stomped upon by some drunken high-schooler’s wedge.

So, we left, and the kids claimed to have had an absolute blast, but I think the B96 Summerbash is definitely meant for an older crowd, preferably an over-21 crowd, but I don’t think anyone there got the memo.

I suppose the burning question is whether I will give up my beloved indie music and punk rock and start cranking B96 full-time.

Don’t bet on it.

Happy Monday.

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