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Nearby, serious rock n' roll is booming from a gargantuan sound system: Ozzy, Aerosmith, Guns N' Roses. High on a stage of scaffolding, swathed in gusts of dry ice, Teri Wiegel is rocking out. She's the poor man's Pam Anderson, all pretense of respectability stripped away, just big blond tangles, severely fake tits and party-girl hollers. She's tossing tiny lace panties into her audience of men; then, amazingly, she is tossing herself into the crowd. A field of hands are raising and passing her tanned, enhanced and basically naked body around the mob. It's silly how protective I instantly feel. I think of Woodstock, I think of how Courtney Love was fingered and molested by guys at her own show when she jumped into the crowd. Later, Teri lies atop a table, fucks herself with various phallic foodstuffs then eats them, but I'm still stunned by her crowd-surfing when I talk to her an hour later. "Oh, it's fun," she says, shrugging off my trepidation while wiping down her sweaty body with a towel. Teri's an athlete, she works hard. "I'm always jumping in the crowd. I walk on shoulders, or I dive and they hold me up. If they can get a free feel, they're going to put their hands up."
I ask her if she's ever scared.
"No fear," she answers.

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