Standing in the middle of the nosh pit, you were at a show for some goregrind band you liked. It smelled like shit and sweat, and pot. But, to be fair, that last thing was probably the smoke from your own joint wafting into your face, along with the dozens of other people's joints around you.

In the pit, you and some huge guy kept bumping shoulders. Or more, your shoulder kept bumping his elbow. He looked like he could wrestle a fuckin' bear and win, if you were being honest. Even in a loud and rowdy pit, the guy's expression looked surprisingly neutral. No singing along, no excited smiles; nothing. Regardless, he didn't seem to dislike the concert, obviously. He looked strangely peaceful, for such a heavy metal concert. Maybe he has RBF.