The Woman with the NOFX Tattoo
If you are looking for these three, you won't find them in the restroom.—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
Introduction by Dick Slaughter
I was lucky enough to photograph the last three performances of NOFX at the Punk in Drublic festival in San Pedro, California. Over the three days of the festival, while waiting for each band to start, I handed out In Spite Magazine trading cards and talked with fans who had come from as far away as Israel, Alaska, the Netherlands, and even Japan. At the main stage, where Fat Mike and company planned to call it quits after over 40 years, I noticed the same faces from noon until the end of each night. They didn’t move; they never left—getting smashed and run over by oversized crowd surfers with no trips to the bathroom. These motherfuckers were hardcore NOFX fans, and I wanted to find out why they felt all the travel, money, waiting, and physical torture was all well worth it.
Underneath this mountain of a man is our NOFX Super Fan.—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
A few volunteered to share their stories, but one stood out: a woman who had traveled from North Carolina to claim her spot at the rail at Punk in Drublic, even though her head was regularly used as a seat cushion by men weighing two hundred fifty pounds or more. She refused to be moved, and she also promised me she could spell.
Please allow me to introduce Kim Moenich.
the woman with the NOFX tattoo
Kim on the Rail.—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
Like so many other fans I talked to this weekend, I came to NOFX via a mixtape, given to me by an older friend. The music stood out amidst Econochrist and the Dead Kennedys, with short, catchy tunes whose lyrics often bordered on the absurd. S&M Airlines had just been released on Epitaph Records, so the band was getting play outside of Cali, meaning those of us on the East Coast were getting our first real taste of these four crazy boys from LA.
Up shirt belly shot of Fat Mike.—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
I almost immediately went down to the Record Canteen, my favorite local shop, to get their other albums, and that was it for me. The cassettes were never out of my Walkman, and later my car, after that. Punk in Drublic came out the year I graduated high school, and it was my playlist for some of my fondest memories. While I got my politics from Bad Religion, my toughness from Social D, I got what it meant to be a 90's punk kid from NOFX.
El Hefe makes the scene. —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
As a teenage girl growing up white, Southern, and lower class, I often struggled to find my place in the skate punk scene. But NOFX gave me the sense that punk was just about being your own, ridiculous self, with all of your imperfections, and everybody else could just fuck off. Looking back now, I realize that listening to them often led to some poor decision making. I remember one night in particular where my crew had been skating downtown with White Trash, Two Heebs, and a Bean playing—my personal favorite of theirs—and a horse cop showed up. Needless to say, shenanigans ensued, and we ended up hiding under tables in a Chinese restaurant, all while "Bob" played in the background!
What is up with Melvin's belly button? —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
NOFX have been one of the few constants in my life, seeing me through love and a great deal of loss, tragedies, and triumphs. During COVID, my NOFX Pandora channel was what I listened to as I walked back to my Airbnb every morning after my 13 hour shifts in an ER in Bed Stuy, where I was working as an ER travel nurse. Their music helped me deal with the horrors I was seeing every day; they kept me, as they so often had, from falling into a dark place.
Big dudes love to sit on Kim's head. —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
I went to four of the dates on the Final Tour, spending money I probably don't have. I was one of the first in line every day, getting up at 6:30 in the morning, despite the few hours of sleep I'd managed. Being center rail every night was more important than sleep, food, or peeing (which I didn't do for about 14 hours each day). Bruises cover my body, and I'm pretty sure my left nipple got ripped off at some point. I endured countless giant dudes crowd surfing over my head, and the smell of sweaty security guys might never leave my nostrils.
There were a few regular-sized people that sat on Kim's head as well. —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
After the first night, I swore I'd prostitute myself for a Bro Pass the next day, (VIP Backstage Viewing Pass) so I didn't have to spend the whole show worrying about who was going to fall on my head (I'm looking at you, Banana!).
This banana spent more time on top of the crowd than in it —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
Instead, I spent Saturday morning helping organize the line outside the festival grounds to help out the security team after a massive cruise ship made a surprise appearance in the harbor. For four hours, I got called "the Devil" by rich cruisegoers for letting them know that the ‘mohawked freaks" weren't the Uber line, and I was rewarded with getting to meet the guys backstage!
Perhaps a reunion cruise is in the future?—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
Life achievement unlocked, and my right nipple appreciated the save. They were all just as kind and funny as you would imagine. Watching the show from the stage was an experience I will truly never forget.
How close is too close to Fat Mike ?—Photo courtesy of Kim Moenich
Kim’s new Bro view—Photo courtesy of Kim Moenich
It looks like Kim might have snapped a photo of Dick for a change in this one.—Photo courtesy of Kim Moenich
A true vision of loveliness—Photo courtesy of Kim Moenich
Sunday saw me once more first through the gate, running as fast as my asthmatic lungs would allow, to once more be at that rail, center stage. This was my last chance to see the band who had saved my life time and again. It was an utterly brutal night, with men twice my size trying to get my spot, but I held strong. Knees swollen from being slammed into the barrier, neck wrecked from that dude that Security didn't quite get over the rail, sunburnt to the point that my lower lip belongs on Angelina Jolie.
Kim's rail partner was six feet tall on Friday, this Sunday.—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
But I would do it all over again tomorrow if it meant I got to show the band, whose music both changed and saved my life, how much I love them one more time
Always room for one more at the NOFX show—Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
So long, Smelly, Melvin, Fat Mike, and El Hefe, and thanks for all the shows
Kim in her natural habitat —Photo courtesy of ©dickslaughter.com
I felt compelled to leave with a few more Faces from the Rail from the last 3 days of NOFX.
See you on the reunion cruise.
Love dick
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