The opening band was some chick on a Casio keyboard and a drummer. They were whatevs. They were bummed because no one cared about them. Damn right, we want Morrissey! The venue was assigned seats, but people were like, "Fuck that, we want to stand in front of the stage." Security was harsh and kicked people out, but when the lights lowered people barged the stage (including me) and we secured our spots in the Mozz sweat zone.
Morrissey came out and it was pure craziness. Fuck assigned seating, it's Morrissey and we need to touch his hand and feel his sweat! Guys and chicks were jumping on stage to touch and hug Mozz. Some got by the bouncers, but a lot of people just got served. I helped lift people up on stage. Girls (in skirts mind you) were trying to get up and would ask you to lift them up and push their butts up in the air so they could reach the stage. I was there to assist. Morrissey almost touched us too! (Peep cell phone photos.)

When he threw his shirt it landed on my wife. She avoided damage while 10 dudes and one chick spent the next 15 minutes holding on to the wet button-up shirt for dear life. Finally they all ripped it into 11 perfectly even pieces. I touched it. I got a guitar pick too, from the band, bro. It's a '"greatest hits" tour so it was all the hits: "Suedhead," "Everyday is Like Sunday." Even a few Smiths tracks like "How Soon Is Now." It was so good. Except at the encore some drunk dude got carried away and while he was barging the stage and hugging Morrissey he tried to rip off Mozz' shirt.

He almost brought Morrissey and his grey pompadour hair to the ground, so the bouncers got on the dude and Morrissey broke out, exit stage right. It was a crappy way to end the show. People were like, "Thanks for ruining the show, asshole." It was sweet. I want to go tomorrow night in SF. Anyone want to take me? —Erik