Mickey prepares to ask the crowd a complex math question. He had homework.
Because really, listening to a rock concert while sitting on someone's shoulders isn't nearly enough multitasking.
Misty and Amy, toothing it up.
This crowd surfer wasn't too despondent, seeing as how she'd gotten 4 phone numbers slipped into her pocket on her way from the third row.
So that Mickey Avalon can always say he's "Playing on Broadway." He tried making the floor out of a boat named Broadway, but no one thought that was clever.
The DJ was part werewolf. He was in the cage for his own protection.
"I give up! No one is listening to my damned whistle. There are flagrant penalties all over the place. Over there! *Blows whistle* Two minutes for inappropriate touching!"
Misty indicates how many times she's hugged a perfect stranger since arriving at the concert.
Worst. Hiding Spot. Ever.
Mickey apparently needed a bit of help with his wardrobe from this nice young lady. He's a sloppy dresser.
Someone's practiced the cool look in the mirror a few times.
Mickey requires barbed wire on every stage he plays on. He's deathly afraid of the chupacabra.
Having never seen the sunlight until they saw it shining down upon Mr. Avalon, the ladies are thankful.