My wife and I went to see Smashmouth in concert at the Disney/MGM Studios in Feb. 2001, they were filming "Disney's Summer Beach Party" or something. The band was awesome (a phrase that truly dates me). They played, "All Star", "Walking on the Sun", "Can't Get Enough Of You Baby" and "I'm A Believer". There were about 2,000 people all dancing, shouting, singing along etc., mucho fun.

Just behind my wife and I sauntered up this gent about 32 years old, weighing approximately 250 pounds, with scraggy, dishwater blonde, balding hair about waist length, obligatory goatee, wearing a faux silver, pentagram necklace, a Metallica T-Shirt, and a carrying a large wooden cane topped by a plastic, snarling skull with jewel encrusted eyes. When Smashmouth starts really getting into their set, this genus starts screaming "Metallica - Metallica - Metallica - Metallica!" Luckily for the band, they were too far away to hear this giant among men. We're all dancing, hitting beach balls, streamers flying through the air, fireworks, this guy is still barking, "Metallica - Metallica - Metallica - Metallica!" like Smashmouth is going to explode in a blaze of rockin' glory. The sun would turn black as James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, and Lars Ulrich sail down from the heavens, now torn asunder, to save the day. But alas, it was not to be.

After about 45 minutes the show was over and as the audience meandered off we still heard the wailing cries of "Metallica - Metallica - Metallica - Metallica!" like some geeky baby bird squawking for grub worms. And as he drove back to his parent's basement in his fiery red '86 Dodge Colt, no doubt "Enter Sandman" was booming from the speakers.