Many music connoisseurs wish they could remember in detail every show they’ve seen, or at least the good ones. But why is it that we can always remember more easily the details of an unpleasant experience than an enjoyable one (or maybe that’s just me)? It always seems to happen that it’s the nights where you get beer spilled in your hair, or that obnoxious high schooler thinks he can get away with dancing up on you, that we remember the best. At any rate, I think we can agree that it’s usually the painful, sweaty, and detrimental concert experiences that always turn out to be the most memorable.
That being said, I offer to you now my own outrageous concert story. Now, not to put down anyone’s music taste, but the realm of my listening usually falls short of lyrics that compare a part of a woman’s anatomy to a filet mignon. However, last summer, a few of my friends mentioned that Lil’ Wayne would be in Saint Louis the weekend we got back to school, which was also the weekend of my birthday as well as my roommate’s. I figured it would be a fun way to celebrate; after all, I had yet to experience a rap concert.
Sophomore year finally rolled around, and so did the concert. I had high hopes of what my forty dollars would bring me; let’s just say I got a little more than what I had bargained for. When we got to our seats I people watched for a few minutes, exchanged words with a friend about the cloud of marijuana that hung above our heads, and set my wristlet down on my chair for about twenty seconds. I can’t remember why I set it down, maybe my arm was starting to hurt, or perhaps I needed both hands free to perform my signature cross punch dance move. For whatever reason, it seemed harmless at the time. Or for those twenty seconds, at least. Because when I turned around to grab it…yeah, it was gone. The next couple of hours were a blur of searching, canceling credit cards, and talking to those security guards who think they’re policemen. Although all of this was happening, I tried to see and hear as much of the concert as I could.
Getting a purse or wallet stolen is high up on the list of things you pray will not happen to you at a concert. However, there are positive moments at shows that can make our heart pound just as fast. When surprise guests Nelly and Murphy Lee appeared, I was in a trance the moment they got on stage; my anxiety faded momentarily as “Air Force Ones” began. The crowd seemed to be similarly affected; a couple of Saint Louis’ big names were back in town. I was able to distract myself from my worry in other fashions as well; our seats happened to be right next to the entrance/holding place for the artists, and we could easily peek over the wall and see who was next to strut in. In doing this, we were able to witness Nelly flash Ashanti a white smile as she handed him a piece of gum. With the hyped up ambiance and exciting guests, it seemed impossible for anyone not to have a good time; I wasn’t about to have my minor loss bring down this mood. When I focused my attention on the music rather than who might’ve been browsing through pictures of my dogs on my phone, I was able to let go and have a semi-decent time. The concert ended up being mediocre, considering I knew only about three songs that were played, and I didn’t get much of a chance to sit down and take it in.
There ended up being even more madness to the method; we found out at the end of the concert that the culprit was actually someone we knew. He was the then-boyfriend of a girl who went to the concert with us. (Don’t think too hard). It was also amusing because this criminal was actually ‘helping’ us look for the lost purse the whole time. It’s very complicated and not necessary to give all of the miniscule details, but long story short, he ended up in handcuffs that night by Saint Louis city cops.
So, it was a bizarre night and birthday, and it was a bummer to get my phone and wallet stolen. But, after my initial pouting had subsided, I realized that maybe this wasn’t so bad. In fact, I can’t think of a better concert that this could’ve happened; I was fortunate this wasn’t a show with an artist I had a strong attachment to. Even though theft and general misfortune isn’t necessarily what is hoped for in a memory, this is still a concert I will never forget. And that, I can live with.
Will Return Writing About Something Other Than Rap,
Pigeon Toed
...If you like rap: stay tuned for "The Magic Stick's" upcoming coverage of the Jay-Z show at EMU!
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