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In metal, chivalry is dead

If you have ever spent a winter in New England you know the meaning of the word cold. Red nose, blue lips, cold! You begin to think that ifyou had gone down with the Titanic it would have been nothing more than a late-night dip with friends.

It was such a night when my girlfriend Jacqueline and I went to a club in downtown Boston to see a concert. These were the days before kids, responsibilities, a fast sports car and when we--by anyone's standards--looked HOT! She with her next-to-platinum long hair, I with my Vixen-teased long red hair-- it was all we could do to fit in my car without removing the sunroof. When women believe they look good, to hell with a coat. We were no exception. Black stiletto heels, low cut blouse, see-through arm sleeves-- ah yes, a case of hypothermia in the making if ever there was one.

The line to the club consisted mostly of guys, and all eyes were on us! Naturally, we looked bored. We made our way to the door where they checked your I.D. and put a colored bracelet on your wrist. One color if you were old enough to drink, another color if you couldn't. As I stood there with my arm outstretched, I noticed how dark the inside of this club was. There was an upstairs that overlooked the dance floor, a bar to my left and the staircase leading to the bathrooms.

I began walking towards the middle of the dance floor when I noticed about five headbangers standing in a group. Each one had hair to the middle of their backs. As I walked, I did not see the two-inch step up to the dance floor. With everything I had, I hit that step head on in those stiletto heels, immediately cracking my big toe. The next thing I knew I was falling face first!

It was as though it was happening in slow motion as I took out the first three headbangers. I can remember vividly seeing their knees buckle and their hair fly up off their backs as they fell in front of me. I was like a big, red wrecking ball destroying everything in its path.

Jacqueline pretended not to know me. The pain from my broken toe was making me dizzy. I looked up and noticed the headbangers getting up, dusting themselves off and glaring at me with burning eyes of death! With my last shred of dignity, I picked myself up and headed for the stairs, dragging my broken toe and shredded pantyhose up to the bathroom where I locked myself in a stall and watched my foot swell.

After a few moments, Jacqueline came calling my name and laughing so hard she could barely breathe! I had to be talked into leaving my stall. Somehow, I no longer looked so hot with the swollen toe that I could no longer fit into my heels, my flattened-out hair, smudged lipstick and shredded pantyhose.

We left the club after three songs, with Jacqueline slightly buzzed and me limping down the sidewalk with no shoes and frostbite setting in. I learned a lesson that night. As good as you think you are, there is always something or someone that will remind you to be humble. I also learned that in the world of metal, chivalry is dead!

-Colleen Rankin-Wheeler

Colleen Rankin-Wheeler is a published author having had her first book, A Day in the Life of a Spider Spazing Freak, published in October, 2015. She is currently working on her second book. Colleen is from Boston, MA, and is a mother of two.


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