(My editorial for the most recent issue of The Clocktower.)
At first it was humorous. My friends and I were probably the oldest ones there that weren’t chaperons. We were admitted an hour before the show, pulled out our Chinese takeout (had no idea it was possible for P.F. Chang’s to be subpar), and stood at the front right of the stage.
Teenies and an occasional parent kept packing in as the first performer took stage. By the time the second opening act began, there was no personal space left. I felt like someone was going to turn around and slap me, threatening to have me arrested for violating a minor.
Enter “Blondie,” a barely 18-year-old and her three friends. At first they were on our right. Then they made a human chain and began pushing their way in front of my friend, Claudia, and me. Three feet from the stage to them apparently equates to the nosebleed section.
They weren’t nice about it, and that’s what bothered me most. They didn’t seem to notice that one of the reasons we had strategized our position was for my shorter-than-average amiga. I said, “You realize that now my friend won’t be able to see.”
“I paid the same amount she did,” Blondie responded with a shrug.
Her friends, a bit more thoughtful, convinced Blondie to let Claudia in front of them. Except now this group of rude girls separated us, exactly how one hopes to spend a three-hour concert.
I let it go with a roll of my eyes and tried to enjoy The Scene Aesthetic. And then Blondie starts dancing—and pushing. Hard. Complete with an occasional elbow jab to the girl beside her who was preventing her from becoming one with the stage. She wasn’t going to get away with this. I stepped sideways between her and the girl, giving the victim a sympathetic, apologetic look.
“Stop pushing. You’re being extremely inconsiderate,” I had to yell at Blondie over the music.
“It wasn’t me!” she countered. “I was standing still, I swear.”
This marks the first and only time I’ve wanted to slug a girl. I heard a girl a couple feet away suggest pouring water down her back. No one wanted her there. She kept “discreetly” forcing herself against me hoping to get through. Even her friends started to realize this wasn’t the best idea after one particularly powerful push that almost toppled a handful of people like dominoes.
“I’m really sorry,” one of the friends rather quietly said after we regained our balance. Blondie’s head snapped around towards her friend, shock on her face. She pushed, but this time in the other direction, towards the exit.
I looked around and there were satisfied grins on the faces of everyone around me. But I knew she would be back. And sure enough, towards the end of the set I could see her blond braid working its way back to the spot she abandoned. I had since given my spot to a couple shorter girls behind me and couldn’t really do anything but fume when she began, yet again, pushing.
Eventually she got what she wanted: a very front stage spot where she stood happily jamming out to the main performance. Unfortunately, cheaters often prosper.
The concert was still enjoyable, but didn’t meet my expectations. I couldn’t decide how much of it was Blondie’s fault. Claudia and I decided, after several minutes of perplexed discussion, that this was our most adventurous concert. We hung out backstage, got autographs, danced to the background music with the other band members (except Adam Young, the Owl City lead who we really were hoping to see).
Of course we talked a lot about Blondie and this idea of innate respect, or lack thereof. Some of us know what this means, while others either don’t know or ignore these unspoken social courtesies. Things like not touching or getting too close to art work in a gallery (or audibly criticizing the work when the artist or even other viewers are present). Keeping conversation to a minimum when in church, if not out of respect for God then for those who would be distracted or offended. Playing music over speakers or being loud in a coffee shop where others are trying to concentrate.
It comes to this. You aren’t the only one in this world. As children, we hadn’t yet developed the ability to see life from someone else’s side. But now we have. And if we don’t analyze the way our actions affect others, we’re going to end up a big jerk that no one likes at a concert.
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