I was at the last Headstones show before they broke up in 2003. It was in the alley beside the Black Dog Tavern in Manotick. The Headstones were even louder, more raunchy than normal and were just killing it. Hugh Dillon was, as usual, going crazy and putting on a wicked show.
I was 18 at the time and was in the pit. Hugh broke his mic stand in half and threw the 2 pieces out into the audience. I got hold of the bottom half, the base. A battle ensued — a battle that I was not going to lose. I fought off all the other people, including security guards, who thought a big chunk of metal in the pit was a bad idea. I had a death grip on it and was not going to let go. Eventually the security guards agreed that if I left with it and took it to my car, it was mine. It still graces my crawlspace.
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