Papa Roach Breakout Xmas Shirt

The year I got my Papa Roach Breakout Xmas Shirt was a blur of chaotic holiday cheer. It was the December before my best friend, Mark, shipped out for basic training, and we were trying to cram as much quality time as possible into those dwindling weeks. We were at the annual punk rock Christmas show downtown – the venue was a sticky-floored dive bar, smelling of stale beer and teenage angst, the perfect backdrop for a mosh pit and some aggressive caroling. The band, a local group called “The Anti-Claus,” were playing a cover of “Last Christmas” with extra distortion, and the energy in the room was electric.

I’d been eyeing that shirt for weeks, a black tee emblazoned with Papa Roach’s logo and a festive, skull-shaped ornament hanging from the letter “O.” It felt rebellious and cool, a little bit like the exact opposite of the cheesy Christmas sweaters my grandma knitted every year. Mark knew I wanted it, but the show was packed, and the merch table was swamped. I saw him weaving through the crowd, his lanky frame disappearing for a moment, then reappearing with a triumphant grin. That shirt, sweaty and a size too big, was one of the best Christmas presents I’d ever received, right up there with the dog I got when I was 8.

The show itself was a whirlwind of crowd surfing and stage diving. I recall getting accidentally elbowed in the eye during a particularly spirited rendition of “Deck the Halls” (it wasn’t serious, just a minor black eye). Afterward, we stayed until the very last call, talking about the future, our favorite albums, and the absolute absurdity of adulting. That night, wearing my new shirt, I felt invincible, ready to face anything, even the looming separation. The shirt became a symbol of that Christmas, of that year, of the bond between Mark and me. It got worn to death: to late-night pizza runs, to awkward first dates at the movies, and to every concert we could possibly attend. It’s faded now, the graphic a little cracked, and the material thin in spots. Honestly, the collar has stretched out so much it practically sits on my shoulders! But I can’t bear to get rid of it.