A Eulogy for The Arena

The Arena: Death Cab for Cutie 2006

As fans of alternative music, The Arena has offered a spiritual home to us all. As a venue, The Arena offered refuge to those disillusioned with Brisbane’s largely-populated-by-bogans night life. A place where collars were not required. A place where faded band t-shirts bought on tours ten years prior were a measure of status. A place where eight dollar cans of XXXX Gold were consumed without a second thought by the thirsty and stupid alike.

The Arena, or ‘reenz as we affectionately named her, lived a charmed life. When we were younger, she let us in when other venues turned their noses at those yet of age. As we grew older, we cursed her for allowing grommitty kids in. Although there were disagreements, we knew Reenz would never turn us away. She was generous and kind. Ticket prices were never exorbitant. The bouncers were never too hard on the kids. The floors never clean.

Yes, The Arena’s approach to hygiene kept us all on our toes, but it only made us love her more. You never could quite tell what was making your feet stick to the dance floor. What fluid you were stepping in puddles of in the bathrooms. All the stories that made you seriously consider going to shows with a pair of rubber gloves.

In writing about stories I scratch my left elbow and fondly remember the time a barrier at Reenz gave me a nasty case of infected dermatitis. My skin turned red and scaly and pustules sprouted from my wrist to elbow. The doctor said it was one of the worst cases he’d seen. It required a course of antibiotics and a cream to be treated.

Or the time when a friend and I visited the facilities during a show only to find two people being “amorous” in a toilet stall. They were loud, and sounded drunk. It was a Cannibal Corpse show. In fairness to the couple, however, it was their first ever Australian tour and we all celebrated in our own ways.

As Reenz is buried and a trashy, soulless R&B club is erected in her place, we cannot help but to mourn the lost of our beloved Reenz. The way she was oppressively stuffy in summer, yet had the air conditioners turned up to artic in the dead of winter. The way you could see the stage from wherever you were standing. The way there was always a post, wall or ledge to lean against.

Even though she will be succeeded by the Hi-Fi bar, we will never forget the times we shared with the Arena.

Rashes to rashes, toilet stall lust to lust.