If I were to try to explain what the Pink Floyd album The Wall meant to me, I would come off as a touch more insane than my baseline. I found it late, but I found it at a crucial time in my life and it propelled me through a lot of times when I would have frozen, deer-in-headlights style, without it. The combination of harsh poetry and Celtic foundational melodies (it’s there…just listen closely. Especially “Comfortably Numb”, “Thin Ice”, “Mother”) is soothing to my soul in a very measurable way.
So when Tim heard Roger Waters was coming to town with his “Wall Reimagined” tour, we bought tickets that very day.
None of us gave any thought to the fact that section 301 at the Bridgestone arena was very far off the ground. And none of us certainly thought that acrophobia would be a big deal.
I sat down in the seat and felt like I was sitting on the edge of a ledge. The show was due to start in ten minutes. I leaned over and told Tim I hadn’t been so terrified since Tower of Terror. That was a ninety-second ride, this was a ninety-plus minute show. I closed my eyes and told myself it would be okay.
Then the preshow music came on: Imagine by John Lennon segued into People Get Ready and I was wondering how many more Death songs were coming to remind me just how terrifying my circumstances were. “What’s next,” I thought, “Amazing Grace on Bagpipes?” Tim and I kept saying I’d be okay once the houselights went down. And the houselights went down. Spots chased one another over the crowd, and pyrotechnics synced with the music made the entire stadium vibrate. As soon as the guitars crashed at the end of the intro to Thin Ice (and my husband’s arm about got torn out of its socket by the grabs of his terrified wife) he looked at me and said “we have to go NOW.”
The walk to the First Aid station—about 200 feet–gave me an idea of how far gone I was. Arena personnel, vendors of cellphones and sellers of beer all looked at me goggle-eyed and asked my husband if I was okay. He still claims that he deserves a prize for not saying “WHAT DO YOU FREAKING THINK??? LOOK AT HER!!”
We made it to the first aid station and I crumbled into a trembling I couldn’t stop. I started into a keening wail like a woman who had just seen her whole family executed before her. None of it could I control. I just…broke. And at the height of it all we heard Roger Waters leaking past the concrete walls–“fat and psychopathic wives”. That was me. Fat. Psychopathic. Ruining my husband’s good time.
I was going to go wait in the bar where we’d had several blogger meetups.
The arena management found us two seats on the floor. I ended up seeing most of the show. But it’ll always be one of the most embarrassing events of my life.
Mother did it need to be so high?
Just Another Pretty Farce 
Your candor is devastating and refreshing. I very much appreciate you taking us into that venue with you. (I’m a huge Prog fan and I always get into this debate – is Pink Floyd prog or not? Turns out, it is what you need it to be.)
Glad you got to enjoy some of the show…but why embarrassed? The thing about panic is that it’s a condition that you can’t control, triggered by something unforeseen. You feel what you feel, but I’d try to go easier on myself, were it me.
Yeah, what Bridgett says. Props to the Bridgestone people for getting you seats you could use, and I hope the remainder of the show lived up to your expectations.
Johne, I’m mostly a roots-rocker but I agree that Pink Floyd is Prog.
I’m sure down the road the rational part of my brain will be able to kick in and help me cut some slack. But I’ve become increasingly self-conscious in recent weeks of my general health-based Otherness. Tim’s college roommate and good friend came down with his wife and daughter to go to the show, and I generally feel awkward and uncool in their group–or used to when I was younger. So I felt super uncool having a breakdown at this show and in this company in particular. But honestly–I had NO control over it. I did my best. But the room was spinning and tunnelling. There were iron bands around my lungs while at the same time my heart felt like it was pounding hard enough to break through my sternum. Weird.
Oops. That longish thing was actually a reply to Bridgett. Well, and to you, too. But in addition I did want to emphatically say that the arena management were just completely kind beyond all expectation.
I fully intended to stay in the ground floor bar. I didn’t ask to move my seat; it was a very classy move on their part.
Oh I can so relate… I had a full-on panic attack during a church fundraiser because of the WIND, of all things. Nothing like folks asking where the PW went and having people point to your car, where you are sobbing hysterically. Kudos to your hubby for helping you through it!
Much sympathy for you. I’m glad you got to see the rest of the show. I hope your rational brain can let go of the harsh self-judgement. Which is so much harder than it sounds.
Panic attacks are the worst! I never feel like “I’m going to die!”, I feel like “I want to die right now so this feeling will go away!” It’s a terrifying experience, no doubt. Unfortunately, I understand why some people truly do lose it. Gives me all the more motivation to cling to Jesus with all my might. Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.