You bought the ticket, you don’t want to buy drinks, too. (I’m assuming you’re cheap, like me.) But at the door of nearly every concert, there’s a near-TSA-certified, seemingly government ordained pat down. We found some super sneaky ways to bust that booze past security, and put it into your body, where it belongs during those songs.
BYOB. Because you, like Rihanna, ran out of fucks to give.