I know where the children play...

...at the Phillips arena in Atlanta. That's where.
Shoot me, spank me, scold me if you must--but I broke it all down for one last chance to score an evening with my one and only, Mr. Hetfield (and his chums).

Bring on the black wristbands, the spitballs, the sweaty guitar picks, and the occasional slap in the face from some gritty split-end ponytails...I'm heading back for more.