2008 Woodie Awards
Use your manners at concerts
Obnoxious fans can ruin others' experience
By: Frank Wisswell
Issue date: 3/26/08 Section: Lifeline
I sometimes can be that annoying guy at concerts.
First off, through no fault of my own, I sweat a lot. I'm a big guy; concerts are full and crowded and warm. People are moving all over the place.
I sing very loudly and I dance very ridiculously if the music I'm listening to compels me to dance.
Often, I'll scan the crowd looking for a pretty girl I don't know who's singing and dancing as well, hoping we can make some sort of cosmic connection and fall in love based on our mutual love of whatever band I'm seeing.
But there's one thing I refuse to do at a concert. I keep my hands to myself.
This weekend, some friends and I drove to Ann Arbor to see a band called Man Man.
I don't know if I'll be more of a pretentious hipster if I assume you know the band or if I assume you don't, so instead, I'll just suggest you visit the band's Myspace or read about them on Wikipedia if you even care.
The crowd was fine for the two openers, but once Man Man went on-stage, I felt a shove from behind.
"Great," I thought, "there's a drunk jerk who wants to get ahead of me. He hasn't been standing here patiently for 45 minutes while Man Man sets up, but now he wants to stand ahead of me."
Once Man Man started playing the first song, I soon realized that the one jerk was not alone. No, instead there were hundreds, all shoving and pressing their sweaty bodies against my even sweatier body.
I eventually found myself on the side, standing strong and avoiding every shoving member as well as every crowd surfer.
Don't get me started on crowd surfing.
Some may say I'm bitter because due to the laws of gravity, I cannot be a crowd surfer myself. Instead, I hate it because it's stupid and results in unnecessary work while I'm realistically just letting people take cuts ahead of me.
It was then that I realized that though they may be a bit older, and thus more likely to drink, smoke and have beards (see "Being bearded is beautiful, beneficial by Frank Wisswell, 2008), they're no better than the fans I hated back when I used to go to Warped Tour every year.
First off, through no fault of my own, I sweat a lot. I'm a big guy; concerts are full and crowded and warm. People are moving all over the place.
I sing very loudly and I dance very ridiculously if the music I'm listening to compels me to dance.
Often, I'll scan the crowd looking for a pretty girl I don't know who's singing and dancing as well, hoping we can make some sort of cosmic connection and fall in love based on our mutual love of whatever band I'm seeing.
But there's one thing I refuse to do at a concert. I keep my hands to myself.
This weekend, some friends and I drove to Ann Arbor to see a band called Man Man.
I don't know if I'll be more of a pretentious hipster if I assume you know the band or if I assume you don't, so instead, I'll just suggest you visit the band's Myspace or read about them on Wikipedia if you even care.
The crowd was fine for the two openers, but once Man Man went on-stage, I felt a shove from behind.
"Great," I thought, "there's a drunk jerk who wants to get ahead of me. He hasn't been standing here patiently for 45 minutes while Man Man sets up, but now he wants to stand ahead of me."
Once Man Man started playing the first song, I soon realized that the one jerk was not alone. No, instead there were hundreds, all shoving and pressing their sweaty bodies against my even sweatier body.
I eventually found myself on the side, standing strong and avoiding every shoving member as well as every crowd surfer.
Don't get me started on crowd surfing.
Some may say I'm bitter because due to the laws of gravity, I cannot be a crowd surfer myself. Instead, I hate it because it's stupid and results in unnecessary work while I'm realistically just letting people take cuts ahead of me.
It was then that I realized that though they may be a bit older, and thus more likely to drink, smoke and have beards (see "Being bearded is beautiful, beneficial by Frank Wisswell, 2008), they're no better than the fans I hated back when I used to go to Warped Tour every year.
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