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The kind of frequency that could kill weeds

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The "Hell Yeah" chick made me smile from ear to ear. Her hair is a giant ruby shag, and her gleaming braces seem to impede her speech more than the beer she was drinking. But nonetheless, she's there to "part-ay!" When the the interviewer asks Hell Yeah what she would do if Rob Halford happened to walk by, she immediately says that she would "jump his bownes." I wonder if she ever found out that such an act would have made no impression on ol' Rob at all.

I chuckled warmly at the sight of the two surly dudes holding court by their run-down car. At 21 and 19, they were concert vets - both of them had seen Priest "like five or six times." But these are no hair metallers, these guys: one of them wears a "Kill 'Em All, Let God Sort 'Em Out" t-shirt that he probably got from his brother (who probably bought it from the back pages of one of those commando-type magazines).

The sight of the Lone African American almost brought a tear to my eye. That he was at a heavy metal concert in 1986 in Maryland surely suggested a progressive spirit, but he could still bring it old school when necessary, as was the case when the interviewer said he was being filmed for MTV, to which my man simply answered, "Bull...shit!"

But the real star of Heavy Metal Parking Lot cannot be disputed. For my money, it's all about the Steve Perry Wannabe. "Holy cow!" I said out loud, almost spilling an olive from my martini. I totally forgot about this joker. The Steve Perry Wannabe - his hair is done in Perry fashion to a T - is hanging out by himself, apparently friendless, and in a moment that will forever live in video infamy, grabs the interviewer's mike and lets loose with an overly enthusiastic, screeching a cappella version of Living After Midnight. His voice is absolutely poisonous, the kind of bizarre frequency that could kill weeds. All around him, people either laugh or duck for cover. Priceless stuff.

Pulling out the tape, I felt a sudden twinge of sadness. Like turning the pages of a yearbook, I had seen faces I hadn't thought of in years, heard sounds that sounded as familiar as the ocean surf. Where was the Hell Yeah girl now? What was the Lone African American doing? Did the Steve Perry Wannabe ever get the beat-down he so richly deserved? And what about David and Dawn, did their incredible love story live on? Draining my martini, I made an important decision: Heavy Metal Parking Lot was going back on the shelf, spared from the bottom of the garbage bag. It's an important time capsule, and one I know I'll be digging up again much sooner than later.

By Joe Bosso

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