I live in Newark, DE (University of Delaware practically owns the place) and my band was based out of here before the guitarist went to grad school at NYU to study under Scofield (!). There is this row of houses, located as close to campus as possible, called Skid Row. The sleaziest, most stereotypical college houses possible, with parties on par with the stereotype. Twice a year they throw a shindig called Skidfest where all of the money goes to charity. The backyards are surrounded by stone walls 10 feet high, so it is a "private event". Tons of booze and smoke of both varieties. Over a thousand people at any given time.
The students like to get very, very drunk at a very, very early time.
Aside from the girls who think its a good idea to get on an elevated wooden stage that is already littered with gears and players to dance, there's always that one guy. THAT guy.
This completely sloshed guy, before our set, tripped over the keys' players Triton case, knocking into my bass rested against my amp. If not for the guitarist's quick reflexes, it would've feel 5 feet into one of the walls and into what was probably a healthy mix of mud, booze, cigarette ashes, and perhaps even vomit or piss by this point.
Halfway through the set.. same f'in guy. Gets on stage, again, steps on a bunch of my guitarist's pedals and knocks into him. Guitarist gives him a decent hockey-style check to get him out of his immediate area, and the guy goes to swing at him. Misses and stumbles off stage.
When we're unloading. SAME GUY. Hauling stuff off the back of the stage, which leads to the city sidewalk. I am pushing my amp and he walks sideways into the wall and falls over onto the sidewalk.
Skidfest..
Skidfest 
