Smoke curled in thick, hazardous rivers around us. I was clad in the uniform of the grunge era - large flannel, black leggings and ridiculously heavy Doc Martens. The place smelled like armpits and chewing gum.

When the pounding and strumming and singing began, a mass of people crushed toward the stage. In the center of it all, a low rumbling began.

It started with just a handful of people, hopping around like mad, limbs flailing. Bodies bashed together in a way that was not unlike Milli Vanilli's signature move, but somehow so much cooler. More and more people became caught up in the throng until we were one heaving, throbbing, sweaty mass of a mosh pit.

I emerged breathless, bruised, but exhilarated.

That's what festival seating means to me.

With this kind of seating, the first people through the door get closest to the stage. I've seen countless shows in this intimate way, from Southern-fried rockers Southern Culture on the Skids to the more placid Toad the Wet Sprocket. I appreciate festival seating for a couple of reasons. First, I can easily put forth a little effort and reap the rewards.

If I'm going to see a band I really love, I can stand in line for several hours before the door opens, which will ensure a spot right by the stage. I don't have to deal with the disappointment of scrambling for tickets, only to have all the good seats swallowed up by radio ad guys who don't even listen to the band.

Plus, festival seating tickets are significantly cheaper. For example, during U2's Elevation tour, tickets ran as high as $130. Festival seating was $45.

Sometimes, however, there is a bigger price to pay. Here 11 people were killed at the Who's Dec. 3, 1979, concert, one of the deadliest tragedies in concert history. Afterward, Cincinnati put into practice a festival seating ban. It was repealed Wednesday.

In no way is the city forgetting the loved ones we lost at that concert.

On the contrary, we vividly remember. And we have learned from the experience.

Changes have already been implemented since that winter night to make concert-going less dangerous. There's more pre-show planning at the venues and more communication with promoters and artists. Many places nationally have changed capacity from 2 square feet per person to 15 square feet, under National Fire Protection Association recommendations. This makes for a less-crowded area that is easier for security guards to manage and emergency crews to navigate.

There's no free-for-all at the doors anymore. People file through in an orderly fashion. Purses and bags are checked by guards. Getting inside is smoother, safer.

Here we will abide by other National Fire Protection Association recommendations.

There will be a limit on the number of general-admission tickets.

Doors to the seating area will be opened two hours before to the show. Ushers and security guards will be in place before the concert starts. Occupant load will not exceed 7 square feet per person. We'll see that festival seating can work - and work well.

It works all the time at local venues like the Southgate House and Bogart's, smaller-scale places that never had to comply with the festival seating ban.

I'm proud the city realized that enormous changes have made a significant difference in the way modern concerts run. There are still crowds who dance and get crazy. But it's what U2's Bono called "a kind of positive riot."

I know. Because when I was in the mosh pit during that Pearl Jam show, I was jumping and laughing and dancing. It was an experience between me, the band, and hundreds of other fans. And that's more harmony than anything I saw on stage.

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E-mail mdowns@enquirer.com