July 7/13

Let's call this one "Fancy avoids a fight."

Tonight at Bluesfest, our major draw was the Wu-Tang Clan.  Evidently, it was a draw of some sort for a lot of people...lots of young people.  There weren't a lot of blue Alcohol ID bracelets in the crowd.  This year marks the 20th anniversary of WTC's first album, and no kidding, that album is older than about 40% of the crowd.  And it was a very, very white crowd...disturbingly suburban, pasty white crowd.  And while I expected an ass-load of pot in the crowd, what I didn't expect was the barely-legal foursome beside me snorting Meth before and during the show, and that made me really sad.  These kids looked like recreational users, but all I could think was "Well, this won't end well for you."

And it nearly didn't for one of the foursome, a tall, gangly, pasty-white man-child with sharp elbows and a shitty sense of space (even when sober).  That kid elbowed me so many times that by half way through the show, I was physically forcing myself not to open my mouth or else words to the effect of "If you hit me one more time, I'll fix your fucking face." would come out streaming out of my face in a profanity-laced tirade.  I try to go by the good old golden rule of human decency: treat others as you would want to be treated.  After the fifth or sixth hit, it was clear to me that this kid wanted to be treated like a punching bag.

Thankfully, at that point, he started to put space between us, and I was able to continue watching with only mild annoyance at all the twats who were pushing through the crowd to get closer for no good reason.  There were a couple of points when I started to verbally confront some of these jerks.

We had considered sticking around for the Tegan and Sara show later in the evening, but I knew my testosterone level was probably approaching critical, as was my temper, so we split instead and gave ourselves a break from the festival.

Concert crowds can be such assholes...

...Wish you were here.