Three 6 Mafia
Thursday, September 6
Better than: Waiting in line outside of Supreme.
There was a problem. Three 6 Mafia couldn't get to the stage; 50 people blocked their way, a fire hazard if there ever was one. A man got on the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, please clear a path. Please cooperate, or else there won't be a show." No one moved; no one could. Fifteen minutes passed; everything felt hot. Oxygen hid. A guy standing across the stage muttered, "They should just plow through. This is so wack and not punk rock." Four feet away, a girl yelled back in agreement. Ten minutes later, there was progress. Now only one manwearing a Yankees hatstood in the way, unable to find standing room while already standing in the room. The host got back on the microphone: "You're fucking the show up for everybody, and most importantly, you're fucking it up for Supreme. If you respect the brand, respect the instructions." A fight broke out; the Yankee got pushed far enough so that Three 6 Mafia could now squeeze by. Right on time, 30 minutes late, the show started.