Young Folks

I went to a concert tonight. I can’t decide if I enjoyed myself. The band was Peter, Bjorn and John. They played well, and they were fun to watch. I’m not crazy about them, but they had a stage presence, so they were entertaining. The trouble was there were too many people, and, as happens quite often when I’m left alone for too long, I became very introverted and lost in my head. I’ll break it down for you play by play.

So, I had secured for myself one of the last open railing spots in the venue, ensuring myself some good lean support for the two hour concert. Shortly after I had established base camp on the railing, a couple of people came to stand in front of me; not a problem. The trouble was they kept scooting inexorably closer to me. They bumped me from time to time, and put me in awkward situations where I was forced to move. More than once I found myself spooning the girl in front of me, causing me to jump back in horror and lose valuable railing real estate. Furthermore, the couple had a few other friends who came to stand with them after awhile, and one of the girls with them, for reasons unknown, thought it would be a good idea to stand on the opposite side of the barrier from me and lean on that side, literally pushing me away from my spot and reducing my material possessions to naught but hand space. Their whole process, mind you, was done without once looking at me or acknowledging that I existed, even though I was more physically intimate with several of them than with my first girlfriend. I’m not an easy person to miss! But they seemed to manage it. Eventually, I was standing, I kid you not, an arm’s length away from the railing, gripping it firmly with my right hand while the boyfriend slowly inched his way in for the kill. After a couple of songs, he was leaning into my arm, resting his elbow on my hand. It looked to any bystanders as if I were wrapping my arm lovingly around the persistent man in front of me. I strengthened my resolve, telling myself that if I left this railing, I was leaving the concert because it was just too absurd. After three more songs and several of the boyfriend’s pointed looks at my hand, I withdrew it with a flourish. I was beaten.

This is a completely true story. They never once looked at me, and I was too far into my own little world to speak out indignantly, which would have been the appropriate reaction. It was a very strange encounter, but after that couple and their friends had moved me into what they deemed a suitable position, I started to enjoy the concert, even going so far as to bob my head a little bit and sing the words under my breath. What a night.

Here's a picture of the map I made so I could find my way to the concert. It's drawn on the back of a grocery receipt.