Why do perfectly sane individuals feel the need to turn crazy at rock concerts? Did I miss the part where you check your self respect at the door?
I attended a rock concert Friday night. It was one of those standing-room-only venues, which perpetuates uncomfortable closeness between strangers. I was chagrined when I realized I had accidentally felt up the guy standing in front of me, and spent several songs spooning someone else from behind. When he turned to look at me, I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a look that said, “Hey, it’s a concert. Sometimes unintentional spooning and getting to first base with people you don’t know happens.”
If I was embarrassed about that, the girls that committed other moral mishaps should be more humiliated. While the natives were getting restless waiting for the headlining band, several girls began to take their tops off and flashed what the good Lord gave them for a ballroom full of people to see, videotape, photograph and put on YouTube. I shook my head in reproach. I don’t know if it’s because I have a daughter or simply because I respect myself, but I wanted to shake a cane and say things like “You young people today simply have no self worth or sense of personal ethics.”
I watched as both sexes pounded beers and several people passed out before the main act began. I wondered why anyone would pay good, recession-era money to go to a show only to get wasted and end up being carried out by security, wearing nothing but your bra and sweat-soaked blue jeans. I will never understand.
As a woman who is barely over 5 feet tall, my main complaint at concerts is not being able to see. At one point I believe the tallest man in the room noticed me, the shortest person in the room, and purposefully strode over and stood right in front of me. I know that isn’t likely, but as I stood with my nose in the middle of this guy’s back, I had to wonder. Between that and the people holding up their cell phones to take pictures, I felt like a munchkin in the land of giants.
Finally staking out a spot near the side of the stage, I was able to see the band perform. While people pushed and pulled to get closer to the stage, I edged further and further out. Unlike these folks, I didn’t pay my good money to get the air squeezed out of my lungs by a headbanging mob of people, who would throw me aside like a rag doll in a second to get closer to the artist. In fact, once I got to my spot, I noticed a short girl behind me and moved my head so she could see as well. Once I was comfortable I realized there was an even tinier woman in front of me, and she had the biggest, fluffiest head of hair I had ever seen. Normally I would admire her beautiful curly ‘do, but on that night, I swallowed so much of her hair while she was dancing in front of me that I probably could have hacked up a hairball. It didn’t matter though because I could breathe and I could see the show. See, you can be respectful, clothed and not pushy and still enjoy a rock show.
Christi Aldridge is a senior strategic communication major from Hillsboro.