“How’s about we form a good old-fashioned Warped Tour circle pit?” Cory Castro bellows into the mic, calling the few thousand fans to morning attention. Then, for just a second, Castro betrays himself and takes a weary breath. “It’s early as sh-t.”
It’s just before noon on a Saturday, and the blacktop at RFK Stadium’s “festival grounds”—which is just a nicer way of saying “parking lot”—is already reflecting 90-plus degree heat into the crowd.
