I don’t go to a lot of concerts. In fact, prior to last week, the last concert I went to was Pearl Jam at the L.A. Forum. No, that’s not a typo… I said the L.A. Forum – the former home of the Lakers and the building that is now… a church. Seriously, look it up. Anyway, I went to the Pearl Jam concert, not so much because I was a fan, but because the girl I was dating at the time was a huge Eddie Vedder fan. I was hoping her Vedder-lust would at least garner me some tangential action. I’m not one to kiss and tell, but… Thank you, Eddie Vedder. Huh, I guess I do kiss and tell.
There are a number of reasons I don’t go to a lot of concerts. Part of it has to do with the fact that I’m not a huge ‘music’ or ‘bands’ guy. An even bigger reason is that I’m really not a ‘crowds’ guy. But the most likely explanation is, in my experience, shitty people go to concerts.
Now, if know me at all, you know that, in general, I believe people are predominantly shitty. It might be my somewhat anti-social behavior or my quick-to-judge assessment of all things ‘not me,’ but this concert had a higher concentration of shitty people than your average, run-of-the-mill gathering. But before I go any further, I know you’re wondering: ‘what makes people shitty?’ The definition is somewhat fluid and based entirely on my own cynical observations and harsh criticisms, but I generally judge these people based on two criteria: “How you look” and “How you act.” I’ll use the people at the concert as examples.
To put the evening into some context, I guess I should tell you it was an Eagles concert, and that, of course, was awesome. It was the Eagles. How could it not be? That said many in the crowd seemed subdued, disinterested or otherwise indifferent to the experience around them.
“How you act”
The woman in front of us was covering her ears and eventually put in ear plugs. Surprise, it’s a rock concert! Who knew it was gonna be loud? Halfway through the show, she was rocking back-and-forth like an autistic kid riding shotgun at a NASCAR race.
And it wasn’t just the sound that was a problem for her. After a few flashes of light from the stage, she donned her Chanel sunglasses and shielded herself from the light, burying her head into her boyfriend’s armpit.
When the Eagles played “Hotel California,” you could see several puffs of pot smoke rise up above the crowed. A woman beside my wife, waved the smell away from her nose, looked at her husband and whined: “Ew, is that pot?” I wanted to yell, “No, that’s me. I ate my hemp underwear for dinner. Sorry.”
While some people appeared bothered and inconvenienced to be there, there were some of people who were way too excited about everything. After Don Henley sang, “Boys of Summer,” and the crowd had started to settle down, the guy beside me yelled to his wife: “Holy shit, he fucking nailed it!” Hard to argue with that, I suppose. But of course he nailed it. He’s Don Henley. I think it’s a safe bet that he ‘nails it’ quite often.
Lastly, was the guy who came back and said, “Have you been to the pissers yet? There’s like a hundred of them. How awesome is that?!” Oh, it’s awesome. And so, my shitty concert goer, are you.
“How you look”
There were a lot of 50+ year-old women sporting leather, ill-fitting jeans, bad tattoos, and, in what I’m sure was a blow to concession sales, unnecessarily exposed cleavage.
There was a sizable share of mullets, because apparently that hairstyle has become resistant to scissors and immune to ridicule after all these years. Some even braided their mullet, proving to the rest of us that they knew how to ‘dress it up.’
Lastly, in a shocking indictment of our country’s health, there were lots and lots of fat people. And I’m not talking casually overweight. These were enormous, bordering on disgusting people. The women behind us fidgeted loudly, complaining: Fat Girl #1: “What are these? Wedding chairs?” Fat girl#2: “I know I barely fit in these.” Overhearing, my wife and I looked at the ample leftover space in our own seats. We were using about $160 of our $280 seats. (Yeah, we dropped some cash.)
These women also uttered my favorite ‘shitty people at a concert’ line of the evening.
When the Eagles launched into “Desperado,” and the crowd roused to their feet, the woman behind us muttered: “Uch, we’re standing again?” Yes, you heifer, we’re standing. Because these are the Eagles. They are legendary. I will stand. Oh, and just so you know… your seat does have armrests. It’s under your side fat. And now that you’re standing, I feel compelled to tell you that everyone else’s seat springs back up when they stand. Your poor seat is sprung, begging for mercy and hoping for a Hannah Montana concert where a 42 pound 8-year old girl will give it a reprieve from your tonnage.
There are a number of reasons I don’t go to a lot of concerts. Part of it has to do with the fact that I’m not a huge ‘music’ or ‘bands’ guy. An even bigger reason is that I’m really not a ‘crowds’ guy. But the most likely explanation is, in my experience, shitty people go to concerts.
Now, if know me at all, you know that, in general, I believe people are predominantly shitty. It might be my somewhat anti-social behavior or my quick-to-judge assessment of all things ‘not me,’ but this concert had a higher concentration of shitty people than your average, run-of-the-mill gathering. But before I go any further, I know you’re wondering: ‘what makes people shitty?’ The definition is somewhat fluid and based entirely on my own cynical observations and harsh criticisms, but I generally judge these people based on two criteria: “How you look” and “How you act.” I’ll use the people at the concert as examples.
To put the evening into some context, I guess I should tell you it was an Eagles concert, and that, of course, was awesome. It was the Eagles. How could it not be? That said many in the crowd seemed subdued, disinterested or otherwise indifferent to the experience around them.
“How you act”
The woman in front of us was covering her ears and eventually put in ear plugs. Surprise, it’s a rock concert! Who knew it was gonna be loud? Halfway through the show, she was rocking back-and-forth like an autistic kid riding shotgun at a NASCAR race.
And it wasn’t just the sound that was a problem for her. After a few flashes of light from the stage, she donned her Chanel sunglasses and shielded herself from the light, burying her head into her boyfriend’s armpit.
When the Eagles played “Hotel California,” you could see several puffs of pot smoke rise up above the crowed. A woman beside my wife, waved the smell away from her nose, looked at her husband and whined: “Ew, is that pot?” I wanted to yell, “No, that’s me. I ate my hemp underwear for dinner. Sorry.”
While some people appeared bothered and inconvenienced to be there, there were some of people who were way too excited about everything. After Don Henley sang, “Boys of Summer,” and the crowd had started to settle down, the guy beside me yelled to his wife: “Holy shit, he fucking nailed it!” Hard to argue with that, I suppose. But of course he nailed it. He’s Don Henley. I think it’s a safe bet that he ‘nails it’ quite often.
Lastly, was the guy who came back and said, “Have you been to the pissers yet? There’s like a hundred of them. How awesome is that?!” Oh, it’s awesome. And so, my shitty concert goer, are you.
“How you look”
There were a lot of 50+ year-old women sporting leather, ill-fitting jeans, bad tattoos, and, in what I’m sure was a blow to concession sales, unnecessarily exposed cleavage.
There was a sizable share of mullets, because apparently that hairstyle has become resistant to scissors and immune to ridicule after all these years. Some even braided their mullet, proving to the rest of us that they knew how to ‘dress it up.’
Lastly, in a shocking indictment of our country’s health, there were lots and lots of fat people. And I’m not talking casually overweight. These were enormous, bordering on disgusting people. The women behind us fidgeted loudly, complaining: Fat Girl #1: “What are these? Wedding chairs?” Fat girl#2: “I know I barely fit in these.” Overhearing, my wife and I looked at the ample leftover space in our own seats. We were using about $160 of our $280 seats. (Yeah, we dropped some cash.)
These women also uttered my favorite ‘shitty people at a concert’ line of the evening.
When the Eagles launched into “Desperado,” and the crowd roused to their feet, the woman behind us muttered: “Uch, we’re standing again?” Yes, you heifer, we’re standing. Because these are the Eagles. They are legendary. I will stand. Oh, and just so you know… your seat does have armrests. It’s under your side fat. And now that you’re standing, I feel compelled to tell you that everyone else’s seat springs back up when they stand. Your poor seat is sprung, begging for mercy and hoping for a Hannah Montana concert where a 42 pound 8-year old girl will give it a reprieve from your tonnage.
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