Here is how I imagine Jessica Kulig remembers N1 Wrigley 2010.
**
I was in the front row.
Dave was singing up off to my left. At the end of the show, he threw a guitar pick out. It landed in front of me, but over the rail. The photographer on the other side of the rail picked it up and handed it across the rail.
I reached for it.
The girl next to me reached for it.
But I got it.
The next thing I know, the girl next to me was holding her hand in front of my face telling me I broke her finger. One of them was bent really bad and laying on top of her hand.
Horrified, I immediately started yelling for help. She was starting to cry, and hold her hand and try to hold her purse too. I immediately gave my things to my boyfriend and offered to help her.
She shook her head, but I could see that she was protecting her hand for dear life, so I made a little shield in front of her until the medics got there.
I could not believe that happened and just kept saying I was sorry. When the medics got there I heard her say she was in Chicago by herself. I walked with them and offered to help her if I could. She was probably going to have to go to the hospital.
Oh, wait. Hang on. That's not exactly right. It's correct up to the point where we reached for the pick, and I pulled and got it and she showed me her broken finger.
Horrified, I said, "Sorry," kept the pick, and turned back to my friends, saying nothing more to the girl as the medics took her away.
The next day I was waiting in the line for the second night's show. People were talking about the girl that broke her finger for the pick. A while later she walked past the line. She had a huge cast on her hand. I felt so bad for what I did.
I asked my friends to keep my place in line and I went up to her. I told her I was so sorry for what happened, and offered to give her the pick. I had gotten other things from the band before, and offered her some of those things too. I kept apologizing.
Oh. Shoot. Sorry. Wrong again. Well, it's correct to the point where she walked past us in line with the big cast on her hand.
But people were already saying really hateful things about me, so I just stayed in line and pretended I didn't see her.
The next day I finally tracked her down and called her and explained how sorry I was.
Oh, wait. No, I didn't. She had to find me.
Two surgeries, three months out of work and five months of rehab for her later, crazy bitch wants me to pay half of her out of pocket medical expenses for her broken finger. I paid her $200.00, and have just ignored her for the past two months.
