People you will see at a Dave Matthews Band concert:
– The mother-daughter team.
I’m all for going places with my mom. My mom rocks. And we went to a concert together once — the Lilith Fair. Remember that one? It was a good time. But I was a teen then. Not a pre-teen. Apparently this mother had no qualms about bringing her what I assume to be around 12-year old daughter to a concert, then leaving her alone while she went to find a friend. I have to say, though, the daughter was rocking out. It’s apparent DMB is played often in that household.
– The Really? You’re a fan? Fan.
The guy next to me knew every. single. word. to every single song. And he sang it at the top of his lungs. The guy looked like a slab of beef and was wearing a Rhode Island Hockey t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His black hair was precisely messed and spiked in that I-care-but-don’t-want-to-look-like-I-care way. He looked like he could be on an episode of Growing Up Gotti. He kept apologizing to me after every bump from his slam dancing. I couldn’t help but laugh.
– The lone twirler.
You know who I’m talking about. There’s one at every concert in every state across the country. The girl that comes alone, dances in the aisle and thinks twirling is the best invention since Birkenstocks. Ours disappeared after the opening act, but only after flashing the peace sign.
– The overbearing parent.
I really felt for this girl and her friend. They arrived in their matching tie dye tank tops and jean shorts, ready to dance the night away while dad sat quietly three rows behind them. Except he did not sit quietly. He harassed them to change seats with him — why, I don’t know — and gave our whole section the opportunity to watch the typical “Dad! Stop it! Ugh, you’re embarrassing me!” argument. Eventually, they did switch seats with him, but he only continued to annoy them throughout the night.
– The weird guy with the joint.
Just because you passed it to that pretty girl and she acceptedit with a big smile, does not mean she’s going to sleep with you. Hell, she’s hardly going to look at you again. You had no shot from the beginning. And now you’re out of weed.
– The guy trying really, really hard to get laid.
The couple who was clearly on a second or third date in front of us (not awkward enough for the first day, but definitely not comfortable enough for say, the 20th) was doing everything you would expect people on an early date to do. If they were going to a club, not a DMB concert.
Let’s start with the girl, who chose a silky halter top and the tiniest, tightest white shorts I have ever seen in my life — a strange hybrid of spandex and latex paint that must be applied with two shoe horns and a turkey baster because omigod were they tight. And tiny. And she was, well, not tiny. You can imagine the backside visual we had.
The guy either came straight from work or was trying to impress her with his office duds and over zealous use of his BlackBerry. Seriously, he took the thing out every three minutes to show her how the camera worked. Dude, it’s not that cool.
He refrained from touching the spandexed hiney all night (thank you for that, office dude. I might have lost my dinner otherwise.), but the “casual” bumping into each other during every song left little to the imagination. I wonder how far he got. I mean, he did buy her at least two $8 Bud Lights. What a gentleman.