Parking lots at concerts can be very fun. I think I've spent almost as much time getting primed for the show in parking lots as inside the concert area. Beer costs an arm and leg once you cross the gate, after all.
I remember one concert where a lot of people were partying in the parking lot when a girl slipped and slid down into the wooded ravine where everyone was draining their accumulated liquids, if you know what I mean. That was unfortunate but at least she had a change of clothing.
My worst parking lot story wasn't at a concert but it did involve a lot of stupidity. I went over to a friend's house. This was when I was still in high school. His parents weren't home so he had the brilliant idea of pouring out a tiny bit of alcohol from each of the bottles in his father's bar so he wouldn't know they'd been tampered with. After that, another friend came and got us and we went back to his house. He offered us some muscle relaxers. We each took one (or so I thought) because we were out of alcohol.
That's when we decided to walk down a couple of blocks to the Waffle House. It's probably about midnight. We're staggering pretty badly at this point, especially the guy I was with from the beginning. We reach the parking lots when he trips and falls, taking out all of us when we try to grab him. I remember just laying there for what felt like hours, staring at someone's broken watch and giggling.
We finally get up, the staggering guy in the middle, and stumble inside. That didn't last long, though. Almost as soon as we entered, he fell again, causing all three of us to crash into the Christmas tree. It was terrible but it was also hilarious. Of course, we were kicked out.
We go and chill in the parking lot while the more sober friend calls someone to get us. The drunk friend looks to me like he's about to crash into the pavement headfirst, so I grab him around the middle and try to hold him, even though I'm stumbling, too. The other friend is like, "dude, just let him go, he's throwing up ..." I look down and, yes, he was, which was probably made worse by my death-grip around his stomach. I let go and he drops like a sack of potatoes. Someone else gets there with a pickup and we manage to roll the wasted guy into the back and get back to the house. We get him inside and crash.
The next day, we found out the idiot had sneaked extra muscle relaxers and hadn't just been drunk. Totally brilliant.
