Arts & Entertainment, The Muse

Snap, crackle … POP!

While trying to squeeze my way closer to the stage at Monday night’s Lady GaGa concert, some drunk biddy with crunchy wet curls in a pair of Mudd jeans proudly displaying her muffin top spun around and yelled at me to stop touching her.

I told her this was a general admission concert and proceeded to explain that this means people can go where they please.

‘I know what general admission is, but I need my space,’ she snapped. Space for her chest that was spilling out of her wife-beater tank, perhaps. I told her that if she wanted space, she should go find the nearest staircase and hike up to the balcony where she and her unflattering assets could find standing room with sufficient space.

Luckily, as soon as GaGa took to the stage and declared that each of her ‘boyfriends’ penises double as fog machines,’ the dust had settled on the ‘homo versus ho’ catfight.

General admission concerts, as can be seen, are sometimes quite complicated. In the middle of my girl fight at GaGa, it occurred to me how a simple change in seating changes the vibe of an entire show ‘-‘- for better or for worse.

General admission shows are a great opportunity to get loose and attempt to get as close as you can to your favorite musicians without having to pay out your nose for good seats. However, this also brings hordes of sweaty bodies together for a sometimes unpleasant experience.

The ideal situation is the general admission, dance party style concert. Think Justice, Girl Talk or Chromeo. This is the type of show where no one really gives a sh-t that a few guys are hitting buttons on their MacBooks on stage and simply want to dance. Lady GaGa was straddling (literally) a fine line between popstar worship show and dance party concert.

While GA shows are more prone to brawls and bitch fights, there is equal amount of angst at a seated show, but in this case there’s an unspoken look-but-don’t-touch policy. At seated concerts, typically seats closer to the stage are more expensive than those up in the rafters. Britney, for example, charged $250/ticket for VIP seats next to the stage, while balcony seating was a measly $50 something.

People with ‘privileged seating,’ if you will, tend to carry an air of arrogance with them, frolicking about the venue flaunting that they have front row seats from which Justin Timberlake’s sweat will dribble onto their bodies.

As much as you’d like to knock these concertgoers down and steal their tickets, proper etiquette must be followed at seated venues and unfortunately all that can be done to show your disdain is glare and perhaps give a slight shake of the head or an eyeroll.

Regardless of concert politics, as soon as the artist comes on stage, most pre-show audience angst subsides. There are those certain occasions when a sorority girl will get a little too intoxicated at the annual DMB outdoor concert and spray some vomit onto your Reef sandals. I would take this moment to sympathize, but that’s what you get for going to see Dave Matthews.

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