Dust thrown up from footsteps that pound the ground like iron. The sounds of thunder coming from an unruly herd that is completely out of control. The roar from their yells is deafening. You try to hold the gate, but it is busting at the seams. All attempts to calm them down are to no avail. They are riled up and hell bent for leather. As the gates open, they surge forward, in organized chaos, they come. A stampede of hormone enraged teenagers, pushing and shoving to see the next hot band.