friday night, and it was hella cold out. fall done come quick, seemingly without warning. i had a ticket to a soldout wiz khalifa concert, and no one to go with. i could've scalped it for hella bills on c-list, but i really wanted to see the show. fuck it. i'll go it alone. i had diarrhea from the two soft tacos i had eaten earlier from el sombrero. not a good start to the night.

who the fuck was wiz khalifa? that's what y'all'd like to know. he's this twenty-two year old rapper from pittsburgh, and he's got cred from the teenyboppers to the indie nerds all the way up to the old o.g. fools. i don't know how much of that is exactly true, but from what i saw, that was about the looks of it.

how'd i stumble upon his shit? i remember it like it was yesterday. back from manila in january, i was mad depressed because my cousins didn't come along, and i didn't get a single titty in my face the whole three weeks i was there. no way i was gonna listen to that depressing indie rock shit anymore. i turned to bad rap. i loved the confidence, the ridiculous claims of wealth, weed and bitches. only problem was, most decent rappers (wale, cudi, curren$y) don't ever take it far enough. and when they do, it's but for a quick second. then they get back to having something real to say.

enter wiz.

the line for the show was as funny as some of his songs. as soon as i stepped in it, these two kids in front of me got busted by security. security, in the form of a big white dude with a black hoodie, pulled their mcdonald's cups. "is there alcohol in these?" the kids nodded. the security guard emptied the cups and tossed them into the bushes. he pulled them out of the line. "you guys can't go to the concert tonight, but i'm gonna give you a chance to get your money back." he told them they could sell their tickets, but there was no way they were gonna see wiz. it made me glad i wasn't underage anymore.

despite that, i still felt hella old. the line was like fucking wu-tang meets camp rock. this black dude behind me kept saying, "lot a niggaz tonight. lot a niggaz." and then there was this white girl who was on her cell phone. "can you get my water bottle? it's inside the trunk, and in my bob marley bag!" there was a douchebag with a white hoodie and sunglasses and he looked like zac efron. there were big ass black dudes eye-fucking the shit out of white girls with their tits popping out their tanktops. i didn't get these girls. it was fucking cold out. i got to thinking about teen girls cutting themselves and starving themselves, all to fit some make-believe mtv image.

and everyone was trying to get high. security yelled at the crowd, "y'all got weed? i know you do! if i catch you smoking it inside, i will take it from you, and i'll smoke it right in front of you!" every two minutes someone was talking about weed. it was, after all, the waken baken tour. kids kept talking to each other, being super paranoid. "they'll throw you out if you're underage and they smell beer on your breath!"

once inside, i got to the designated over 21 area, which was nearly empty, save that for a few asian dudes. felt like home. and damn, i needed a drink. i ordered a rum and coke, downed it, ordered another. switched to beer, and then i was buzzed enough to enjoy a rap concert surrounded by ghettofieds and jailbait. the second rapper, yellow wolf was hella whack. people, including myself, booed the shit out of him. he put his hand to his ear. "i need that shit!" he said. "they're booing him," this jailbait said to her friend. "it's because he's fucking awful!" i said. she laughed.

finally wiz got on, and it was sick. he did his donkey laugh multiple times, played songs i wanted to hear ("this kid frankie," "the thrill," "black and yellow," etc.), and i left feeling satisfied. and still kind of drunk. the way it should be at these sorts of things.

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