Crowd Mentality

Sometimes it is easy for my self-conscious to dig itself into a hole when surrounded by a group of strangers, but it isn't long before one single stranger can have me scrambling back up to the surface.


Last night, single ticket in hand again, was the first time I considered eating the $20 bucks I spent on Grizzly Bear. For a second after work I didn't think these feet would start moving again. I refused to let myself down and knew that once I got there it would be great. The show would be great.


I go. But I go with the baggage of uncertainty. Which is a heavy bag to carry entering a room full of strangers. I find my usual spot along the railing upstairs (I've admitted to my height and refuse to stare at someone's neck all night, though I am considering buying the most ridiculous pair of platform shoes solely for concert going). People watching is what gets me through until the talent is ready. I love me some people watching at concerts. The dim lighting at First Ave lets me do it unabashedly too. Checking out everyone and their moms, you notice certain things. You notice everyone donned their 'going-out' style. Everyone is with their friends screaming to each other over the conversations happening next door. The amount of 'cool kids' and the amount of 'not cool kids' that still managed to show up with friends ... starting gnawing at my brain.


There I am, in my dirty work jeans and hoodie. There to hear music, not bat my eyelashes. Taking the solo wide stance in an effort not to be encroached upon. Thankfully, the shortest of shorties comes along around 10:00 and squeezes next to me. This girl proceeded to bore the fun right out of me. I don't know how the dude she was with kept up with his "That's hilarious" and "You're so funny" 's during her twenty minute story about figure skating. I don't know how people are willing to feign interest. Man, I hope that guy got laid for his efforts.


This was also around the time I was put into a trance by BeachHouse and exploring some crazy rhetorical thoughts. The sea of heads below all had the categorical male cow-lick. I started thinking women need to represent and start loving themselves some music. All the concerts I've been to lately have been 85% wiener. Pondering that moved me into mind-blowing territory. I started thinking about how that guy with the shaved head and stretched ear lobes probably lives in the green house on 26th and Emerson. That all these people exist in my same world and we were bound to cross paths. Eating in the same restaurants. Walking down the same streets. I wondered how many I serviced in my customer service days. I later recognized one of my customer crushes from back in the day... so I know there was at least one.


I needed to stop this thinking and BeachHouse needed to quit with the spacey music.


Once I put my Boredom Blinders on. I was gold. I heard nothing but the sweet, sweet music. My ease dropping (shut up, don't pretend you are above it) reminded me that this mass of people surrounding me was just a bunch of individuals - the nerds, cool kids, boring-ass McGee's, and dirty-ass-solo-rocking Me's.