Five types of concert-goers that make you want a refund
By Sam Devotta |
August 18, 2016 at 1:30 PM
For most of us, concerts are a form of escape, where we go to let loose. But nothing puts a damper on singing along to your favorite song like fighting for a bit of breathing room (how are you supposed to hit that high note if you don’t have enough space to expand your lungs?). Add in a chatterbox with no volume control, a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other, overpriced alcohol, and more phones than an Apple store, and you end up with the worst types of people to be stuck with in a small space.
1) The Blabbers
Look, I’m glad you’re here with your friend you haven’t seen in 973045 years and you need to catch up. I appreciate that you lead an exciting life and have many interesting stories to relate. And hey, good job having opinions on world issues…but do you have to be so loud? I didn’t pay money to hear you declaim your thoughts on assisted euthanasia (and your bewildered date is probably re-thinking her decision to come to this show with you) or wax poetic about how good Oasis was back in the day at top volume (dude, does anyone even listen to Oasis anymore?) when there’s a band on stage. Personally, I try to respect the opening acts and pay attention to them because you never know when you’ll find your new favorite band, but I get that not everybody has the same mentality. That being said, as soon as the headliner goes on stage, I expect the audience to shut up and listen to the band they paid to see. Otherwise you might as well just walk to a nearby bar and let the rest of us enjoy the live music experience in relative peace.
2) The Snuggle Bunnies
Maybe I’m just bitter, but some of you couples are just plain gross. I didn’t pay to hear Pretentious McHumbleBrag talk through the show and, surprisingly, I didn’t drop $20+ to watch you grope each other either. I’m not very tall, so when you and your significant other drape yourselves together and sway to the music, it’s hard for me to see around you. I suppose staring at the back of your head is fine—at least I can hear the band—but once you start making out…nope, not interested. The fondling, the gooey smiles, the need to declare your coupledom with your inability to stay apart for longer than ten seconds…I feel like I’m watching a dog marking his territory except everyone loves dogs and you only have eyes for each other. Also, for the love of everything, if you’re married, I don’t understand your need for public displays of affection in a crowded concert venue. Just because your kids aren’t around to walk in on you, doesn’t mean you’ve magically become invisible. The least you could do is buy me a new toy to distract me from your cuddling. Or foot my phone bill this month so I can spend the next few hours live-tweeting my disgust.
3) The Blunderers
You constantly step on my toes or you lean so far back I end up with your hair in my mouth, even though I was standing here first and literally have not moved. You’re the enthusiastic hand-talker who narrowly avoids smacking me when you’re chatting with your friend. Or you’re the genius wearing a heavy backpack in the middle of the pit (what are you even carrying with you?) so that I end up with a rash burn on my stomach because being stuck in a sweaty crowd isn’t uncomfortable enough without having canvas rubbing against you. I understand that you don’t always have a choice when it comes to accidentally bumping into people, especially in a small venue, but there’s a difference between touching-me-because-there’s-not-a-lot-space and the concert-going equivalent of spreading yourself across two seats on the bus, making everyone else uncomfortable in the process. Do I have personal space issues? Yes. Do I also believe that you should respect the people around you and avoid touching strangers if at all possible? Heck yes.
4) The Zonked
I can’t argue with the fact that music and alcohol go together like chicken wings and hot sauce, but I don’t get the point of drinking heavily at a show, unless you like having to pee fifteen times before the headliners go on. So if you’re drinking, I’m sure you’re having the time of your life…I just don’t want to feel your Fireball-y breath on my face when you end up stumbling in my path at some point. Or when you drop the can, spraying overpriced beer everywhere, because it’s too heavy for your drunk-butt to hold, and I have to wipe PBR off the back of my legs…or my sneakers which are already soaking up the alcohol by the time you realize what happened. I should also note that those of you who spend the night zonked are usually the biggest culprits of the other three categories, though you probably don’t notice how annoying you are since you’re living in a bubble made of alcohol fumes.
5) The Periscopers
Maybe you suffer from short-term memory loss and want a way to capture a concert in a tangible way. Or maybe you genuinely think you’re going to watch a grainy, shaky video at some point in your down time even though the audio will be terrible because everyone around you was screaming and the amount of jostling will give you motion sickness. Either way, your phone is blocking everyone’s view and, unlike you, we won’t get a chance to relive the night after uploading the photos onto a computer. I’m totally guilty of taking pictures at a show (how else will my Instagram followers know what I’ve been up to?), but filming the whole thing on your iPhone—or worse, your giant iPad so we feel like we’re at a drive-in—is taking you away from the experience. And, more importantly, it’s stopping me from getting that one clear shot of the stage. I just love seeing other people’s phones in my photos, don’t you?
It might seem petty to let these little things bother us—we’re at a show to have a good time and who are we to dictate how others behave in public?—but when you spend half the night sneezing because that one girl’s hair kept flicking you in the face no matter how much you shifted away, or feel personally victimized by the amount of face-sucking you had to witness, I think you’re allowed to Hulk out at the next person who collides with you despite the three feet of empty space around you.