KEY POINTS:
I tell ya, I nearly drove to the Logan Campbell Centre for the Mars Volta gig last week but decided to take a taxi instead. I even left my jacket and scarf at home, opting for a lightweight jersey so I didn't have too much to carry. Plus, so dead-set on getting a little rowdy and raucous was I, that I even wore my steel-capped boots for protection.
You might say I had taken all the precautions to be able to have a few beers or a few wines or even a couple or three of those sugary bourbon and cola drinks. But, little did I know, my plans would be thwarted.
We start with a beer and wander into the auditorium where some lovely music by this guy called Richard Hawley is playing, so my friend tells me.
As you can imagine, the first plastic glass of Stella goes down pretty quickly with the anticipation of seeing one of my favourite bands.
"You want another?"
"Hell, yeah."
So back out into the bar/foyer area we go, not noticing the security guard who has stationed himself at the auditorium entrance. On the way back in we're told, sorry, no drinks allowed inside. Great, the Mars Volta without a beer, like Bob Marley without, an, um, patch of grass to skank on.
It seems the proprietors of this venue have taken it upon themselves to tackle this country's binge-drinking problem by making it as hard as possible to get a drink.
I should have known better, because the last time I was at this place - affectionately known as the concrete echo chamber in the middle of nowhere - was for the new look INXS gig and the same thing happened.
I tell ya, I could have done with a drink during that one. Going on that previous experience was half the reason I nearly drove to the Mars Volta in the first place.
This policy is not confined to the Logan Campbell Centre either, although other venues have their own unique, and sometimes discreet, ways of policing potential binge-drinking behaviour.
On Saturday night at the Civic for Priscilla I was foiled again.
All was going well in the first half, and even the stunning and stylish Civic allows you to take your drinks into the auditorium.
Come interval though, waiting in an orderly, five-deep queue, I spy the "no eftpos during interval" sign.
I didn't even bother looking in my wallet because - some might say stupidly - I hardly ever carry cash.
Some people, including a few work colleagues, reckon the Civic's rule is a good one considering the time it takes for idiots like me to swipe my card and do the business.
But I took my punishment and went dry during the second half of the musical, and looked enviously on at all those cash-carriers sipping joyously out of their glow-in-the-dark, plastic cocktail glasses.
Later, I heard reports of people dying of thirst at the Powerstation during the Black Keys' gig the same night across town.
The fight against binge-drinking is admirable, but really, it's just not rock 'n' roll. For many, a few beers and a gig - or a cocktail and a musical - go hand-in-hand.
Although, when a wet, wild and woolly creature lurched blindly into the crowd at the Mars Volta, mowing down everyone and anyone in his path, then maybe the venue management had a point.
There's always bloody one.
