What do you do when you’re alone, without communication devices, in an unfamiliar city in the middle of a festival with a million revellers from seven continents? Well, a New Yorker would go back to the car and wait patiently until her friends came to the same conclusion.
by Richard Crouse – Toronto, Ontario, Canada
A few years ago I hosted some events at Fan Expo in Toronto. In between shows I sat in the greenroom, usually with my face buried in a newspaper or a book. One afternoon as I sat reading I felt someone come sit at the table with me. They didn’t say anything and I didn’t look up. It was so crazy busy on the floor; everyone was enjoying the relative tranquility of the greenroom and staying to themselves.
The Core Magazine Beer Pong Champion is hell-bent on leaving the basement this Halloween, so you better hold on tight to your Skittles.
I see a photograph of myself. In it I was on the bus travelling north to Tehran. We were going to visit friends, but that is not so important to the story. I was sitting alone because he was not talking to me. We were driving through the flat, dry landscape of my dreams, like the movies. I was wearing a maghnae, like a schoolgirl would wear, or a nun’s wimple. It’s tight around my face, but easier than wrestling with a headscarf that slides off my hair too easily. This particular day there was a stray hair sticking out, under my chin. I remember trying to locate it, unsuccessfully. It was troubling me. In the photograph I can see it, under my chin. That little hair sticking out reminds me of how I felt that day. Resigned. As much as I may have tried to tame the stray bits, one always found its way out of its cover.
What do The Cockroaches, Lou Reed, The Ramones, Marilyn Monroe, Charles Mingus, Jimmi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Bob Marley all have in common – aside from the fact that they are captivating performers and musical geniuses? They have all graced the stage of a legendary Toronto concert venue.