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Enter thru the alley: Leave yo drama when you come to Troma.
My wife and I walked through the alley sprinkled in millions of bits of various alcohol bottles. The tiny pieces shimmered and reflected the night as we searched for “Tromaville,” the DIY spot we had been trying to see a show at since they threw a punk rock prom a few weeks prior.
We were the first to arrive and we started to think we might be too old for the crowd. The second group of attendees was getting high off NOS balloons and looking to score blow and then we knew we were too old. But when the music started we fucking knew we were right where we belonged. An all punk rock night that saw a fist fight, blood letting, and endless beer showers. It was a dream and I can’t wait for my next Smut or Tromaville show.
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