I’ve been attending my fair share of live shows lately, and that means I’ve been annoyed by all the douchebag behavior of the general public. Let’s review the basic commandments of concert-going, shall we?Thou shalt not wear a band t-shirt to that band’s concert. We already know you are a fan. You bought a ticket. Attendant commandments include: I shall not blast the performing band from my car stereo while waiting in gridlock in the parking lot of the concert venue, and under no circumstances will I emulate the dress of the performers like a pathetic, dorky lemming. All you dress-alike Jack White fans looked like Mennonites. I shall respect my fellow concert goers and not place the world’s largest tarp on the ground in general admission in an attempt to save room for my six late-arriving friends. Conversely, thou shalt not dip in the show after the curtain drops and expect to shove thy way to the front. Early birds get the good seats. Late arrivals expect to compromise on proximity to the stage or encounter intense wrath from the long-suffering and dedicated early birds. If your late ass wants a view, spring for the expensive assigned seating. I shall further respect my co-fans by actually watching the performance rather than spending the whole show with my back to the stage trying to get high. But on that note…
Thou shalt share thy bud.
Thou shalt resist the temptation to sing along to every song regardless if thy know all the words.
Thou shalt use the phrases “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” liberally when negotiating the crowd.
Thou shalt not bring a beach ball. Who are you anyway? Every fucking show with the fucking beach ball. Enough with the beach balls.