Crisp, torturous winds break against my face. Goosebumps getting bigger and bigger, I can barley feel them anymore. My arms and legs are so sore from the tense shivering. Thousands of rambunctious teens crowded around us, still not enough to keep us warm. Illegal puffs of smoke rise up from the crowds. Crowds that are filled with less than half dressed girls who lost their class along with their bottle of vodka. I can’t act like I’m surprised. Waiting outside on a run down side street of Downtown Philly took forty three minutes too long. The smell of tour bus gas and sewage invaded your nose as it filled the surrounding air. A snowflake hits my nose. At times, I couldn’t tell if I were shaking because I was getting frost bite or because of my everlasting anticipation to see Hoodie Allen. An empty bottle hits my foot, as I reach down to pick it up, my love your nature tells me to pick it up but my OCD tells me to not touch it . I look back up and see a tipsy frat boy peeing on the doorway of a store. Erika and I looked over at each other in shock. How the hell did we get here?