My high school took on a new level of coolness when they called the entire fifth and sixth grades into the auditorium one fine autumn day. They didn't announce the purpose of the gathering, only that it was mandatory.

I shuffled in my seat and daydreamed about an announcement that summer vacation would start in December this year.

The lights dimmed, the curtains parted, and five guys walked onto the stage. Strobe lights flashed just long enough for our short MTV-bred attention spans to keep interested. A bass lick bounced as the guys began to gyrate in synchronicity. Then they started singing.

"What the hell is this?" yelled a guy to my right. Other boys chanted similar taunts.

The girls, however, didn't respond the same way. They howled and screamed. "Ohmigosh! They are so hot!"

"They are so gay!" shouted another guy. His friend high-fived him.

A girl ran into the aisle. She stood there and teeter-tottered like the leaning Tower of Pisa. Another girl joined her and together they swooned. Then a third girl ran up to the stage. And that broke the dam.

A mass of girls poured from their seats and crowded the base of the stage, leaving guys behind them shouting, "You guys suck! Get off the stage!"

After the five guys finished a few songs, they bowed and introduced themselves. "Thank you very much! You guys have been great! Don't forget us! We're the New Kids on The Block!"

Yup. The New Kids on The Block actually played at my high school way before they made it big.

My high school's Coolness Level: Major Suckitude.

But fortunately, my high school was able to redeem itself. Next year, during another fine autumn day, they called the fifth and sixth grades into the auditorium again. Purpose: a secret. Attendance: mandatory.

"Oh great, I hope it's not another gay boy band," lamented the guarded guys.

"Oh boy! I hope it's another cute boy band!" hoped the giddy girls.

The principal walked onto the stage and announced that the rest of the afternoon's classes were cancelled. We were to walk out the doors in single file and approach the teachers at each entrance. Each of the teachers had tickets for us.

Concert tickets. For Metallica. METALLICA!

My high school's Coolness Level: Major Coolness!

My friends and I eagerly scooped up tickets and fled home. I grew up with rock and heavy metal and couldn't believe that a high school would actually support this. Then again, if they supported New Kids on The Block, why can't they support Metallica?

A friend's mother volunteered to drive my friends and me to the concert. I was the only one of my friends who listened to Metallica regularly, so I lent them my tapes. They studied the songs and lyrics for days. If they had applied themselves this way to their homework, they'd all be geniuses.

This concert was right after Metallica released "…And Justice For All", back when they were still putting out good and heavy music.

When we arrived at the stadium, we were amazed and intimidated at how many hulking, long-haired teenagers with facial hair there were. They sauntered around in a daze, smoking and drinking right in front of us. It was awesome.

We did our best to look tough. But that's hard when you're wearing a crisp new Metallica t-shirt from Sam Goody and more pimples than hair on your face.

Soon after we took our seats, something very cool happened. A girl was hoisted onto the shoulders of her boyfriend. She hollered at the crowd around her. Then she lifted up her shirt and exposed her breasts.

Our post-pubescent jaws dropped. "Oh man, I LOVE heavy metal!" declared a friend.

Then another girl responded similarly with a breast peek of her own. And another girl. And another. Everywhere we turned, there were exposed breasts.

"I am totally going to come to more rock concerts!" shouted another friend. We all nodded.

The lights finally dimmed. I sang at the top of my lungs to each of the songs. Metallica, who is known to put on fantastic live shows, served their reputation with justice. They did a mix of old and new songs and stunning solos.

A few of us brought along lighters, even though none of us smoked. When the ballads came on, we enthusiastically whipped out our lighters and swayed them.

As in any rock concert, Metallica ended after several suspenseful encores. The lights rose and we looked around for more exposed breasts. But alas, we did not see any more.

My ears were ringing days after the concert. Images of guitars, lighters, pyrotechnics, and breasts all lingered.

I didn't quite look at my high school the same way anymore. I didn't think it could redeem itself after the Major Suckitude of New Kids on The Block.

But it did. It reached Major Coolness. With free tickets to see Metallica. Cool!

. . .

Who did you see at your first concert?