Warning: Crowd chaos, riot, autistic shutdown
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August 22nd, 1965. A typically unordinary day for anyone not in the music scene. However, in Portland, Oregon; a new wave of chaos was about to unleash.
Not even an hour ago, the Beatles had finished the first of 2 shows scheduled for that day. And with their next show set at 8pm, they made the collective decision to rest in the hotel for a few hours.
At 4pm, the limo pulled up to the hotel, and John and Paul gazed out of the window and into the massive crowd.
“How the fuck are we gonna get through there?” Paul asked. “It seems dangerous.”
“Well, I’m fucking exhausted.” John quipped.
“...what does that have to do with anything?”
“If we get inside the hotel, I can have a kip before the show. After a kip, I’ll be in a better mood.”
“Hey, Eppy? Would it be possible to get in through the back?” Paul asked.
“No. I have to check us in and get the keys for the room.”
“...YOU DIDN’T CHECK US IN?”
“Where were we all fucking day?”
“Oh, you’re right.”
George peered out the window and visibly cringed. He was never one for crowds, and one this size was certainly worrying. His breathing became heavier, and he started picking at the skin around his nails with a pained scowl on his face.
“Why are they all around the door?” Ringo inquired.
“They must have all come from the concert earlier.”
“Really now?”
George rolled the window down, only to roll it straight back up because of the noise.
“No doubt about it.” George said. “I recognize them from the concert.”
“Oh dear.”
George’s breathing quickened, and he started visibly shaking, but he bit the inside of his lip and tried to put on a brave face.
“We don’t have a fucking choice. Do we, Eppy?”
“Sadly not. But, hopefully we can power through the crowd and get inside quickly.”
George opened the door slowly, his hands still shaking.
“Now, boys? Crowd around each other and look out for each other, ok?”
“Sure.”
The back seat doors opened, and the boys huddled around each other out of fear. George had a tight grip on Ringo’s wrist, as his vision had started to blur.
“You ok, Hazza?”
George’s head shook.
“I just wanna get through here.” he mumbled.
“I get it. Too loud?”
George nodded.
“Hang in there, honey. And don’t let go of my hand.”
And on that note, they ran into the crowd, and Brian led the charge.
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It was hell, to say the least. The crowd swarmed over the boys like a tsunami wave, and trying to keep up with each other ended up becoming the biggest challenge. The screams that emanated seemed almost enough to shatter the windows of every building in the Pacific Northwest.
Paul saw the front doors in his line of sight, and he grabbed John’s shirt collar as he made the mad dash to the doors.
“Just fucking trust me.”
“Paul?”
Ringo searched the crowd frantically, looking for the other 3 in the midst of all the chaos. John and Paul could be seen from the crowds, with Paul calmly signing autographs and John conversing with a young girl’s father. But he couldn’t seem to find George anywhere.
And his wrist felt empty and open to the Portland summer.
His heart sank as he connected the dots, but he couldn’t tell the boys. They’d worry too much. He knew it.
Eventually, Paul grabbed Ringo’s arm, and the 3 of them made a b-line to the front doors in hopes of freedom.
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The Delicious Fire
Fanfiction1965 comes along, and they surely can't get any more famous, right? Well, turns out that they probably can. And the crowds just don't know how to control themselves. At least in the moment, it's all fun and games until you can't find your lead guita...
