Last night, my dear friend Katy and I got treated to the delicious late-90s sweet jams courtesy of the Counting Crows at the Fox Theater in Oakland. Make fun if you will, but after decades of touring and making records, the CCs put on a very enjoyable show.
At some point I found it hilarious that Adam Duritz so obviously takes himself very seriously. Like, I could imagine him touching up his roots in his bathroom mirror, burning a patchouli-scented candle, sipping on some cabernet, practicing ways to casually slip a Flaubert quote into his personal manifesto as an artist for television appearances or picking up young crunchies…
but I digress.
Adam Duritz isn’t the only victim of the taking shit too seriously disease… you know who else is? Bitches. I’m about to get mean here: When I say bitches, I mean specifically: the group of overweight, badly styled, mid-thirties, fuck faces who decided to dedicate the entire end of the concert into being assholes to myself and Katy because we had the GALL to stand NEXT to them halfway through the show. Not in front of them. Not on top of them. NEXT to them. So to them, and every other chick who turns into a complete cunt the second someone moves at a concert I say this: CHILL THE FUCK OUT.
1. Its a concert, people move around. Expect to be jostled. Especially if you’re close to the front. Because IT IS WHERE EVERYONE ELSE IDEALLY WANTS TO BE. Every sign of weakness is an opportunity; every hole or gap in your crew is an invitation. You don’t want people up in your shit? Don’t stand up in the front. Or I don’t know… don’t go to concerts?
2. GENERAL ADMISSION MEANS WE ALL PAID THE SAME PRICE. Which means I have the same right to try to stand up front as you do. Don’t give me the wonky eye for taking longer than you to worm my way up.
3. What are you going to remember about this concert? ME. Because rather than expending the energy to enjoy the last songs of the show, you focused entirely on being an asshole to me. Stop staring at me. Stare at the stage. Watch the band that you paid top dollar to see. Because when you look back at the time you saw the Crows in Oakland instead of going, “that was a great show” your going to say, “remember that bitch”. Not because I was that terrible (the gall! standing next to you! how dare I?!) but because you created a situation in your puny little brain where I got to play the villain. And instead of being a grown up and shrugging off your perceived injustice, you reverted to the playground bullying of middle school girls… which leads me to
4. Making fun of my dancing. Staring me down. Purposefully slamming into me. Flipping me off. Making fun of my outfit. Calling me an ugly bitch. Really dawg? Its one of the situations where I think you were looking to get in a fight. Because the punishment didn’t exactly meet the crime. Such a STRONG reaction. I haven’t been taunted like that legitimately, since high school… and you are grown ass women. We are ADULTS and we are at a COUNTING CROWS CONCERT. Get a fucking grip and get your threatening middle phalange out my face. Passive aggressive violence is lame. Shoulder bump me again and I’ll give you a love tap right in the face.
I tried my hardest to ignore the extreme aggression directed at me from my right side at the behest of Katy, but it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. I did want to punch someone. I flipped them off for the entire last song. I felt silly, but, it was all I could do without starting a brawl. I just wanted to have a good time man! And I mostly did.
Life did come right back around slap me a little on the way home. I think its possible that IF I hadn’t fed into the catty passive aggressiveness by returning my extended middle finger to their jabs I wouldn’t have gotten on BART going in the wrong direction ending up in San Leondro. And then I missed my transfer after switching trains and accidentally went to Berkeley. And then I had to get picked up in the Mission in the middle of the night by Baby Lawyer (aka Avocado) who had sweetly waited for almost an hour in his car as I fucked up getting on the right trains.
Or its quite possible I still would have. I did get on the wrong bus on Saturday and ended up on the other side of town. And I didn’t get in any fights or see any late 90’s alternative rock bands that day.