DENVER  -- KDVR FOX31 NEWS

The Ozzfest at Coors Amphitheatre on July 28 erupted into an absolutely ridiculous and shameful war of thrown items between the lawn-seat visitors and the reserved-seat visitors during the Static-X set.

                                                                                                                                                                
Plastic bottles, plastic cups, plastic "yard" glasses and chunks of turf were hurled from primarily mid-lawn as far as a third of the width of the second orchestra section.  A few shoes and other items were also observed in flight.  The fracas took on an especially sinister note when half-full bottles and empty bottles and cups were jammed full with sod, creating dangerous missiles. 

It was a shameful display of bad behavior and a ridiculous endangerment to fellow concert-goers.  A fun afternoon of music and revelry became an interesting experience I would never place myself in a position to repeat.  By some good luck it didn't result in full-fledged rioting or morbid casualties.  There were certainly enough alcohol and other mind-altering substances about to have led it that way. The amphitheatre management lucked out.

The details as I saw them follow.

It started with a few bottles and cups being tossed into the seats from the lawn.  They were mostly ignored or met by glares.  However, crowd-think set in and the casual provocations became a hail of detritus from above.  The people in the seats responded as comes naturally:  in kind.  So began an unstated war of the classes. 

My younger adult son, trying to ignore the first volleys of detritus while sitting in his seat took a partially-filled bottle of water, thankfully capless, right between the eyes and ended up with a (thank goodness) minor gash.  Even as I tended to his wound, a rain of bottles and sod fell on and around me, most of it deflected by my six-foot-tall elder son's skillful bat-and-catch.  My daughter-in-law, a delicate petite, took a number of hits as well.  It was infuriating and appalling.

The first impulse was to pitch back, to "give them a taste of their own medicine."  That proved to be the worst policy, as it a) returned weapons to a bunch of riled-up drunks to be chucked down again and b) brought us down to their level.  Our group of four quickly abandoned the stupid reactionary response and took shelter as best we could against the dividing wall.  We still found ourselves fending off short-fires from both directions, but it was better than had we remained at our center-section seats as the near-riot escalated. 

One man who responded in some way or another after his girlfriend was beaned by a projectile while walking along the walkway was pounced on and pummeled by first one, then three drunk thugs as some "seat people" and his girlfriend tried to pull the attackers off him. The staffers in yellow shirts, seriously outnumbered and unequipped to deal with a volatile crowd, finally arrived.  Thank goodness one of them was a powerfully-built trained military person. Otherwise, I doubt they'd have been able to break up the fight and an ugly scene would have turned morbid or spread like a germ.  The victim was eventually wheeled off to the first aid area.

Even a wheelchair-bound attendee was not safe from the wickedness - a two-pound chunk of sod just missed his head.  At that point my elder son again played interference and stood facing the lawn while the man's companion faced the seats and did the same.  The rest of our group stayed close to an eight-year old kid half-in-half-out of the cable fence atop the divider wall.  He was terrified as his brother shielded him from projectiles from the back and we from any frontward incoming.  If the crowd surged he was at risk of being crushed, so we were prepared to yank him through the fence at a moment's notice.  None of the trash-lobbers seemed to care that there were about 10 percent pre-teen kids in the audience.

There was no telling how the situation was going to evolve.  If police made an appearance, I didn't see them.  Perhaps it was deemed a potential escalating action were police to come out and form a line along the walk between seats and lawn.  At one point, the yellow-shirts tried it and were cussed, booed and assaulted with projectiles.  About then, I became a bit concerned about the volatility of the situation and management's ability to handle it.  A surge or an out-and-out mass decision toward greater violence would have completely overpowered the staffers.  Meanwhile, the refrain in my brain:  where are the police or equipped security?  Sub-refrain:  how fast can we make it to that exit?

The staffers were really of no help at all.  Their primary response was to approach us seeking shelter by the wall and demand, unsuccessfully, that we return to our seats.  Our response, angrily offered, was we'd return to our seats when management gained some control over the crowd and restored safety.  One staffer even came by during a particularly violent moment and demanded to see our tickets.  To his credit, after we sent him on his way he was observed actually climbing into the lawn crowd to approach a particularly offensive group.  He didn't look so well when he came out some time later.  He probably should not have done that, but his effort was appreciated. 

After an hour or so the melee somehow resolved itself.  Lack of ammunition is the likely reason, as most of the sod and trash was in the seats and the "seat people" stopped the repartee for the most part.  The show went on with nary a comment from any staff, radio host or band.  The amphitheatre was a sad-looking mess and a testimonial to the power of booze and crowd-think.  There was a concern that the free admission would attract lowlifes; it appears to have been validated.  It's interesting that a near-riot can erupt over nothing in this land of plenty.