I don’t know about the rest of you, but, boy, am I stressed. I’ve got five classes, a job, a whole bunch of extracurriculars and family and friends to take care of, so on the rare occasion I’m not in some meeting or sitting at my computer, I like to let loose.
Last week’s concert seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to decompress and actually hang out. Dinner and a Death Cab for Cutie show with my friends sounded deliciously promising. But, as usually happens with things I want too much, the actual event did not meet my expectations.
It wasn’t until the opening band started to play that the night went downhill. I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but at one point after a potty break, my friend Snugglez and I had lost our other concert buddy, El Colombiano (names have been changed to protect the innocent).
We spent the next 30 minutes trying to make our way through a crowd of stiff concertgoers to our original spot on the floor, in hopes of finding him. I can’t recall how many dirty looks I got in trying to accomplish this feat, but we did what we had to do.
We ended up in roughly the same spot and began bopping to the music, only to be brutally insulted by our neighbors for daring to move, and almost manhandled by a security guard in an effort to squash our apparent rowdiness. Goodness forbid you dance at a concert.
This is a note to you, awkward pack of mean girls standing next to me and Snugglez: This was a soldout concert at the Riv; you were bound to be touched by other attendees, sorry.
Now, usually I would understand your plight. I am deathly afraid of other people’s sweat touching me. What I don’t get is where you girls get off thinking you can do it hamster-style and have your own personal bubble of space measuring more than 10 feet, especially when all you’re doing is standing absolutely still at a music show!
After realizing that the floor was not a receptive place for enthusiasm and joy, Snugglez and I moved over to the bar area near the exits. We had found our dear Colombian friend and proceeded to enjoy what should have been a band’s concert, but, thanks to the distance, actually became a spectacular light show accompanied by Death Cab for Cutie lyrics.
I’m all ears now, my friends. Explain to me why as Northwestern students, we are only willing to let loose once a year on Dillo Day, but not at the other concerts and events afforded to us throughout the year?
I honestly can’t count the number of times some muddy, wet and sweaty person flicked, splattered and smudged mud all over me during Third Eye Blind’s set last spring. Or how many impromptu mud-wrestling matches popped up all around me. I didn’t necessarily like it, but I understood that as far as concerts go, that one was par for the course. And it was all in good fun.
So, why the cold stiff shoulder last week, my fellow Wildcats?
Think of this as a call to action my darlings: Enjoy life, stop being haters and let other people enjoy it too, especially when they only accidentally bumped your shoulder. And it wasn’t like they were sweaty anyway.
Medill senior Susan Staine can be reached [email protected].