(note: There’s references to suicide/ideation and assault here. If you’re okay with that, thanks in advance for reading.)

Despite the dreadful day i had, i was reminded of the gift of Metallica’s music in my life.

It is this gift which has led to the aching and dryness of my eyes, due to crying rivers to the majority of their 16-song set.

The morning of 3 July, i woke up solidly somewhere between 5 and 6 am to go to the bathroom; given that i set the alarm for 7:36 (as per my superstition of setting any alarm time in endings of 6), i could not get back to sleep. Arriving to a Metallica concert on very little sleep is something i’ve done a few other times. That said, i could have set the alarm for much later if i knew what i now know regarding London Stadium- the scene of many a mishap, violation and unintentional ableism.
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Since the launching of the M72 tour in 2023, i have seen 22 shows from all three years so far- including the one i am about to speak about. From the total, i have seen the band in a seat 10 times (including the most recent show), 3.5 times in Snake Pit (the area in the middle of the stage), and 8.5 times in general admission (GA). For this tour, i have traveled to places such as Ciudad de México, Tkaronto (known to most as Toronto, Ontario, Canada); Baile Átha Cliath (known to most as Dublin, Ireland); Foxborough, MA; Nashville, TN; Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (known to most as Auckland, New Zealand), and more.

The number of shows and places on the world map i’ve gone to for this tour could never compare to so many others i know (who have seen far more shows); indeed, it is not a competition. i am incredibly grateful and do not take for granted that i have the ability/capacity to travel to the various ends of the world to see Metallica in the ways i have- one of the only bands i am willing to travel thousands of miles for. It is not because their music and live shows are amazing (which obviously i think they are); it is because through my travels, a community has developed. Deep friendships have developed. Through my travels have come some of the most positively life-altering experiences. Through my travels, i have learned so much more about myself.

In a way, many are awestruck that as an amputee, i travel internationally (and frankly, domestically as well) on my own. If i DIDN’T travel on my own, i’d never leave the house. While there are those in my vicinity who love the band (not necessarily as much as i do), i don’t particularly have anyone willing or has the capacity to travel with me to go to these shows, or to be steeped in particular aspects of the culture.

i am also a massively independent person. i have been this way for the majority of my life. Living as an amputee these past five years has immensely challenged my notion of what it means to be truly independent- some (again) positive challenges, and others, incredibly painful.

My independence was one of the things which broke me, on the night of 3 July, 2026.
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Well, this is not necessarily true: The initial moment which broke me was ALSO in England- Donington Park in Leicestershire, England.

Metallica were headlining the Download festival for two nights in 2023; other bands whom i love, such as Bad Religion and Soul Glo, were also playing. Staying in Nottingham during my time there, it took upwards of at least an hour to travel there (if you were fortunate enough to not encounter gridlocked traffic). It was the first festival in 30 years i attended, since the second and third Lollapaloozas (in 1992 and 1993, respectively), and my first as an amputee.

What i encountered was the least accessible experience i’ve ever had. Similar to my most recent experience, it also led to many bouts of rivers cried. i missed many bands and activities (and saw bands i didn’t have a particular interest in seeing), because i had to stay in one spot for much of the day, as i spent much of the festival time alone. Every single thing was distanced so far apart from one another. The terrain was also incredibly difficult to navigate in a manual wheelchair. It was difficult to the point where even electric wheelchairs struggled.

Similar to with London Stadium; the accessibility facilitators of Download, on their website emphasized attentiveness to those with accessibility needs- cold storage for certain medicines, specialized toilets, platforms where you could see. They even had you send in a medical form to ensure ‘honesty’ about your disability. As many of us who experience a range of disabilities, the intent does not always correlate to the action.

You end up being so attentive to the needs of disabled folks, that disabled folks end up being dehumanized.

For Download, not only were the paths difficult to navigate, the toilets had barely functioning lights (or none at all), the refrigerators for the meds were not existent (for some), the camps were also inaccessible for some, and the ‘accessible platforms’ were so far back, the construction of them felt like an afterthought.

Download (again) was the first festival i attended in 30 years, but it put me off of attending them forever- until i attended Punk Rock Bowling in 2025. This festival put Download to shame- the platform for the main stage, while significantly smaller than Download’s, gave you perfect access to seeing the bands, as the platform was constructed almost in the dead center of the grounds, as opposed to the rear. The two stages were also close to one another, giving you opportunities to catch bands on both stages. No band’s set overlaps either. The language around accessibility was far more casual than Download (and other sites/venues that overemphasize accessibility) and in my view, did a far superior job.

They also are decisively antifascist. It is the only festival i will attend from now on.
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Donnington should have warned me about never going to go see Metallica in England never again, but alas, i did not listen.

Again, Metallica is a band i travel for. The London shows are also the final two for the M72 tour, and i wanted to commemorate these long three years with some of my (chosen) family members.

What proceeded to occur though, i will acknowledge is partly my fault.

Whenever i am unfamiliar with a place, i err on searching for information regarding accessibility. While i looked over at the page on accessibility for London Stadium a night or two before the show, i absolutely missed one thing which would have saved me some modicum of the struggles i encountered when i got to the venue: “Customers with mobility scooters or wheelchairs do not have access to the pitch area or golden circle on concerts / stage events on the pitch. Please note, customers with mobility scooters or wheelchairs do not have access to the pitch area (usually ticketed as ‘General Admission Standing’ or ‘Gold Circle Standing’) for concerts or stage events.”

They said it twice, and i missed it. i noticed everything else regarding the page (British Sign Language (BSL) Performance Interpreting, Changing Places / Accessible Toilets, Quiet Spaces, and Pyrotechnics and Lights in particular), but for some reason i missed the one thing that would have assisted me in making decisions moving forward. i have no one to blame but myself. Had i known that no wheelchairs were allowed on the floor before purchasing a ticket, my initial thoughts would be that i would have most likely opted for something seated.

However, after what i experienced, i will opt out of anything seated at a Metallica show from now on, if i can help it. For some of us disabled/more vulnerable folk, being on the floor (and specifically at rail/in the front) is actually a saving grace.
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Most people want to be at rail (or the front) because they want to be closer to the band. i don’t think this is necessary for me; i’ve been to hundreds of shows in the days and years before losing a limb, and i had fun, regardless of where i stood in the venue. The only reason i aim for rail is for one reason only- it is literally how i can see the bands. If i am behind just one person, i am not able to see a thing.

Most venues, when you enter them, immediately want to bring you to whatever ‘accessible’ section they have. i advocate for myself every single time (to the occasional consternation of those attempting to lead me elsewhere), and tell them i am going to rail, or the front. i go to many of the same venues at this point, so they know me well enough to not ask. So-called ‘accessible’ sections tend to be blocked either by people, or objects. Many times they can be off to the side with all of the bands’ instruments. The entrances tend to be in the back alleyway, or through the kitchen. It always feels like an afterthought, to meet the bare minimum of legal requirements.

The majority who do not project mild annoyance onto me end up being surprised; some even call me brave. i would not consider attending a punk/hardcore or metal show in a wheelchair in any way, shape or form brave; but again, we live in a society where people in wheelchairs (and by extension, apparently disabled people) are supposed to be seen and not heard… so for some, being in the middle of the floor where a mosh pit is consistently breaking out is ‘brave’.

Metallica shows are interesting… Because the attachment to being on the rail for many is (again) tied to a desire to be closer to the band in some way (or to get access to picks, sticks, setlists and hand contact), it’s most likely thought that everyone is there for desire to that same access.

The best thing in my experience about being up front is the relationships that have materialized. While i will always cherish any items that have been personally given to me- because they took the time out to personally give them to me (whether it’s band members, crew or extended ‘Metallica Family’); the things i’m grateful for the most are the things i actually have been able to experience- all with band, crew and extended/chosen family members: the deep hugs, the conversations, the being able to say ‘Thank you’.

A pick or stick will be around for a while, but the impact of these other things last a lifetime.
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St. Anger was watching over me last night.

i left the hotel earlier than usual, knowing there would be some level of struggle regarding the show- whether navigating up hills alone in a manual wheelchair, logistical issues on the venue’s part, or encountering people who are tied to being on the rail.. and it doesn’t matter if you’re in a wheelchair and need to see.

Had i not left as early as i did, i’m not sure if i’d have an opportunity to meet up with friends in the time i did. London Stadium is quite big, and it’s easier to get split up from a group easily. Given that i’m usually alone when i go to these shows, if no one chooses to stay with me in the process, i end up getting lost from the group.

Had i not arrived as early as i did, i would not have spent the valuable time i did with Shep, as we updated each other about our lives over a noontime meal. Had i not arrived earlier, i would not have made new friends, and gotten hugs from older ones.

i cannot reiterate enough that going to a Metallica show is not just about the band for me. Thinking about it as i write this, the tears are returning.
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Much of the day was seemingly okay until i entered the venue proper.

After i had my ticket checked in, i was met by a couple of people, asking what kind of ticket i had. After i let them know, they immediately said, “You cannot be on the floor.” After a few minutes of radioing in for some assistance/advice, i was sent to a ticket window. After waiting there for around a half hour, i was then sent to a section of the venue, and asked to wait, in order to figure out where to be seated. i was told the person at the door would help me.

The venue had not been open to the general crowd yet- only early entry, which is the ticket i paid for- so i went to the merch stand, which took longer than usual. When i returned the doors to the venue were opened, but the person i was supposed to talk to was gone. Another man was there (with a dog that detects bombs), but he was not aware of the situation. There were a lot of people working at the venue (and a lot of radioing in), but it doesn’t feel like anything (or anyone) was connecting.

Yesterday was a day full of liminal spaces: i did more waiting around, until they figured out what seat could be arranged for me to sit in.

i was told that the policy of ‘no wheelchairs on the floor’, while not stated explicitly on the site, is to ensure protection in case there’s a stampede or some other type of catastrophe. This makes no sense to me, because not only are people with two fully functioning legs just as negatively impacted by a stampede. This also makes no sense to me, because the worker who informed me of the policy’s reasoning (after asking her) also said if i put on my prosthetic, this would be acceptable on the floor.

This ‘legal loophole’ is not set up to consider that for many of us amputees, the wearing of a prosthetic for long periods of time is absolutely painful.

This law (which i was told was put forth by the government in London, and applies to every venue in town of that size in particular), while aiming to ‘protect’ people with disabilities, it still takes a ‘you’re okay if you’re not too disabled in our eyes’ approach. This law possibly also does not consider that a performer may spend most time in a wheelchair, if a venue does not accommodate wheelchairs to be on the floor.

While London Stadium’s site was not specific, Wembley Stadium’s was, regarding walking sticks: “Walking aids (i.e. crutches, walking sticks, protective boots) are allowed into the seated areas, but unfortunately, due to the unpredictability of crowd movement on the floor, these aren’t allowed in the standing area on standing floor events such as concerts, boxing and AEW.” 

Having gone to many a rough punk/hardcore and metal show with people on the floor who have a range of disabilities (and sometimes use assistive tools), believe us when we say we know the risks of being on the floor. If we did not think we could handle it, we would not be on the floor.

Again, the reason many of us choose to be on the floor is because the accessible sections they’ve decided to provide are either consistently obscured, or too far back to even engage with what’s going on on stage. Tickets in accessible sections also tend to be priced higher than ‘regular’ ones.
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While obviously going through all safety channels between band and venue security (regarding pyro, ‘crowd control’, etc.); when choosing a venue to play at, tour managers and bands don’t necessarily consider rules such as ‘no wheelchairs on the floor’, because (a. there’s not a lot of people in wheelchairs in GA, and (b. if people were in wheelchairs on the floor in other cities, it may seem like this would be acceptable in every venue- a mistake i clearly made.

For the London Stadium shows, i purchased the tickets during a presale, thinking nothing of looking for this particular policy. While (again) i generally look up information regarding accessibility in an unfamiliar venue, i tend to do it after i purchase a ticket.

For Metallica shows in particular, i will now be sure to do it beforehand.
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After a fairly long period of waiting, i get seated in Section/Block 130, Row 26, Seat 411.

The woman who set it up- Rachel, was very kind. In fact, all of the people i had to deal with were kind, and i made sure to tell them it was not them i was upset about, but this unintentionally ableist policy.

For me, to be unintentionally ableist is when your intentions are to be considerate or accommodating to people in the disabled community, but you end up not giving them many options, or ultimately doing more harm than good.

While the policy was indeed in place, i made sure to ask several people (including those in wheelchairs who were local) if they were familiar with it. Not one person was.

Rachel was kind enough to give me a ticket, in case one of my friends wanted to come visit me. i did not bother to ask any of my friends, because i knew where most of them were on the floor, and i knew they were not trying to move.

Block 130 was the closest i could be to seeing things. As everyone was talking to me, attempting to figure things out; i wanted to cry but held it in. When they all left and i began to watch everyone on the floor freely walking about, it all came out. i felt trapped, and alone. i felt hopeless and helpless. i wanted to disappear. Thoughts of not wanting to live weaved in and out of my mind.

Nothing about this might make sense to someone reading. This may be due to the fact that it’s assumed it’s all stemmed from not being able to be on the floor, when it’s my fault i didn’t look into it enough.

In fact, the tears, anger and ideation have very little to do with where i was located. However, it was the catalyst for the primary realization: i lost my connection to community (the very reason i go to these shows) in an instant, and i had no choice in the matter. i lost my independence. i was stuck depending on people who did not have to promise me anything.

As the hours rolled by, more tears fell. i went to get some popcorn during Gojira’s set (in a bin which was much larger than imagined/expected) as a means of distracting myself from crying. The moment i finished eating, i began crying again.
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There’s been many a Metallica show, where prior to going in, i was moments away from ending my life. There’s been moments where, similar to yesterday, i cried until my eyes hurt. Usually seeing them perform is quite healing, even if for a couple of hours.

Yesterday, that did not happen.

i did not have it in me at all to enjoy it. In fact, taking it all in made me cry more.

Objectively, the band were on point. Looking outside of myself, i’d say their set was amazing. But i mentally was not there.

After conversing with a couple of folks, i moved back to my little section, as their set was about to begin. i always feel a rush of excitement when the house speakers’ volume goes down, and a rumble rises, indicating that it’s time.

As many know, Metallica is a spiritual band for me. Seeing them is comforting and cathartic. i really do feel the universe has connected me somehow to this music, as a healing force. It is indeed, a gift.

After the introductory rumble (followed by AC/DC’s ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll)’ and Ennio Morricone’s ‘The Ecstasy Of Gold’), all i could muster were tears, for these two songs that would normally be a wave of elation.

There are particular songs i have cried to during Metallica’s sets for various reasons, including a dear friend succumbing to a long bout with cancer shortly before traveling to a show, or because i was at an incredibly low period in life. This show- 3 July 2026 at London Stadium, i cried to 10 out of the 16 songs in the set.

This set was amazing (again, objectively); the band were in positive spirits, they played ‘Of Wolf And Man’ and ‘Holier Than Thou’ (two songs i’ve seen during M72 but always love when they bust them out), Kirk and Rob played two covers (from the great Ian Dury and The Clash that i love)- but i didn’t have the mental capacity to enjoy any of it, subjectively. i attempted to sing and air drum to the songs i didn’t cry to, and i felt dejected.

This night SHOULD have been a perfect night- but i cried.

i cried, thinking about being apart from all my friends, as the band is honoring their friend and brother Cliff Burton during ‘Orion’; i cried during James Hetfield’s solo in ‘Master Of Puppets’ (my favorite solo of his). i cried to ‘Lux Æterna’, because this song always feels like a giant hug. It particularly hit me when the “cast out the demons” lyric was sung. i cried during ‘Nothing Else Matters’, as thousands of lights went up, in unison.

Nothing mattered more to me at that moment than being in community- and i was alone, despite being around thousands of people.

‘Fade To Black’ is a song i’ve cried to on many an occasion, for obvious reasons. While yesterday was no different; as the song played on, i experienced another level of trauma.

Throughout the day, people continually kept approaching me to ask if i was okay. All i could tell them was ‘no’, because it was difficult to explain (with music blaring) that my anger and tears were not simply about not being on the floor. A young person i had spoken to earlier about the situation kept trying to cheer me up; however, it was frustrating as she, again, had no deeper context to why i was in tears.

Given that ‘Fade To Black’ is a song from the perspective of someone on the verge of ending their life (or at least thinking about it), i figured the man who ask if he could sit next to me was there to be a sympathetic voice. Unfortunately, he saw my incredibly vulnerable moment and attempted to take advantage of it.

This drunk man, loudly singing the song in my ear (clearly indicating that hes a fan) began to touch me- a little too much. i’m clearly uncomfortable, but he was too drunk to read body language. He kept putting his head on me, in several attempts at hugging, also rubbing my hand and arm. i instantly assumed this to be some sort of fetishization ritual. He asked where i was from (and i told him, thinking he would leave me alone), but he couldn’t hear me. After initially telling him to stop, he proceeded to touch me again, on the verge of molesting me. i proceeded to force his hands off of me.

This did not work, as i had to force his hands off of me a few more times, as well as continually tell him to stop. i came fairly close to punching this man in the face (as i have hit men who have groped me in the past), but stopped short of it because i figured this would get me kicked out of the venue.

i told him to move, and after the third time, he did- however, he was only inches away from me, clearly stumbling. There were tons of people around me (including workers), and no one did anything.

The man proceeded to touch me again- after the third time of telling him to go away, the workers finally responded. All of this was during ‘Fade To Black’, but it felt like an eternity. The moment was reminiscent of being sexually assaulted on the back of a school bus (with other kids looking and laughing) when i was 8 years old. It also reminded me of when i was in Paris, France, and molested by a person at the front desk of a hotel- the reason why i will never return to France.

The song has a whole other memory for me now. At that moment, i really did, once again, lose the will to live.

One of my favorite parts of the show occurs at the very end, as most people are leaving. Save Lars’ comments about the last time they played in a respective city, the majority of their outros are the same, but i don’t particularly care- it’s enjoyable to me. However, as with the whole evening, i could not muster up the ability to even smile.
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While (again, objectively) the show was amazing, after ‘this point ‘Fade,’ i felt lifeless. Everything about the show was ruined for me. i also knew that i would not be able to see any of my friends after the show.

On top of all of this, having to go to the bathroom was a disaster. At London venues, a RADAR key is used to enter accessible bathrooms, so as to prevent everyone else from using them. While i think this is a great idea IN THEORY, if you do not have access to a RADAR key, it is incredibly difficult to find a person with one. The only way i was able to go to the bathroom during the show is because i saw someone not a worker have one available. One of the times, i left the leg pieces to my wheelchair in one of the bathrooms, and (again) the only was i was able to get to them is because someone not a worker had a key.

So much of the bathroom experience is waiting around because of the lack of accessible bathrooms, for one reason or another. It’s amazing that so many of us don’t pee our pants all the time.
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i waited for almost an hour at the Stratford station, waiting for the post-concert rush to clear. During my wait, i did get to speak on the phone with a couple of friends, attempting to process and vent about the day.

When i got back to the station next to the hotel i was staying at, the woman who i had met the day earlier, was again working her shift, and once again pushed me to the hotel. After such a stressful day, it was comforting to be around a kind, familiar face, and to give and receive hugs.

She’s not necessarily familiar with Metallica, but if only for brief moments, she’s represented community for me.