Wednesday, September 17, 2014

The Worst Kind of People: Music Festival Edition

This past weekend was Riot Fest in Chicago which means music festival season is finally coming to a close.

Like most summer concert attendees, you probably feel equal parts sadness and relief that although you can’t view 15 minutes of every band you have ever enjoyed all at once, you won’t have to deal with the awful specimen of people sweating all over you.

Daylong music fests draw in people from all walks of life, but because my soul is filled to the core with sass, I would like to focus on all of the worst people you will encounter at every music festival. Some of these people are strangers while some you may have brought with you, but regardless, they should all go play in traffic.

The “cool” parents.

Did they wake up this morning and think, “Hey. You know what that loud, over crowded, smoky festival needs…my children and all their shit.” You know what would have actually been cool?  Hiring a sitter. Now take your double wide stroller off my foot, and shove it up your ass.

Your ex.

Aren’t you glad you introduced him/her to all your favorite bands? Now you get to relive the magic with them and their new significant other.  You will lose everyone you came in with and never find them again, but if one thing in life is certain, you will run into your ex every ten minutes for the entire weekend.

Chatty Cathy.

You have endured days of extreme weather, crowds, and vile porta potties just to hear that one song, and when it finally gets played, your friend just won’t shut the fuck up. You are literally just nodding and singing along directly into their face, but they keep going on and on about some ex or something.

Overactive bladder.

You will spend more time waiting for this person in the never-ending bathroom line than actually watching bands.  They are fully aware of their inability to hold it, but it still won’t stop them from consuming 14 beers, 8 cups of coffee, and numerous flasks of Jameson. Get them a package of Depends for Christmas or lose their number by next summer.

The drunk girl who “doesn’t give a fuck.”

She bumped into you violently several times, burned a passer by with her cigarette, and squeezed her way into a spot that didn’t exist, but don’t expect an apology.  After the rest of her group see the ‘I am going to murder your friend’ look on your face they try to reason with her, but her lack of common social decency went out the window with her morals half a dozen beers ago.  I like to let Karma (in the form of a crowd surfer kick to the head) handle this one.

The person who shits in the porta potty.

Yeah yeah, I read the book. I am aware that everybody poops, but that doesn’t make me hate this individual any less.  Riot fest smelled like a zoo because you had to eat Mexican food and wash it down with beer all afternoon.  Next year be smart, fast for several days, and spare us all the scent of your shit basking in the summer sun.

Captain Obvious.

Oh, is it hot outside in the middle of July? Tell me again about how crowded it is.  We are all equally as uncomfortable as you, but like adults, we mask our miserableness with alcohol so starting drinking more and caring less. And yes, we are already aware the beer is expensive, thanks.

Stage nine clinger.

All you wanted to do was find a hot random to suck face with for a few songs, but suddenly red pants guy is following you from stage to stage. You realized six minutes in to your make out session that he was not in fact your soul mate, but now you are having a hard time shaking him. Just tell them your friend has to pee again, and lose him at the porta potties.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

All the single ladies, all the single ladies.

Recently at work, I was helping a mother plan her 20-year-old daughter’s wedding. Yes, you read that correctly; she was 20 and conveniently found her soul mate while sitting next to him on a bus. Personally, the only thing I have found on public transit was an overwhelming scent of urine or a guy having a heated argument with himself…

When her mom asked me to draw inspiration from my own wedding, I had to explain that all my ideas were piping hot from my brain oven since I have never been married. What I experienced next went something like this…shocked face, quick recovery, confused stare, head tilt, look of pity, offer to set me up.

I explained that while her nephew seemed like a lovely individual, I was not interested in having coffee with him directly after our meeting.  She continued to ask me if I was still looking for the one or if I was simply focusing on my career, and while her questions seemed to get more intrusive and extremely along the lines of “What’s wrong with you?!” I tried to direct her attention to mason jars and homemade mercury glass…”Ooooh, ahhhh…Have you been on Pinterest?”

In reality I felt like saying, “You know. I probably shouldn’t have drunk that vile of gypsy tears when I was 8.  Now I am cursed to die alone.  What can you do though? They triple dogged dared me…”

As she continued to eye me up and down looking for a tail or extra finger, I began to wonder why people assume there must be something wrong with you if you are over the age of 30 and not married. You can be in a committed relationship with someone, even living with them, but if you two don’t feel the need to define your partnership with a piece of paper, you might as well adopt a dozen cats and hang Cathy comics on your fridge.  

Her daughter was sure she had found her soul mate before she could legally drink or gamble and no one questioned her, yet if you are over 30 and un-wed, you get nothing but questions. I know when I was 20, I was making out with everything with a pulse while simultaneously losing shoes all over the city, but I get we are all on different paths…
Life is not always a Disney film where you wake up on your 16th birthday and find the man of your dreams. Perhaps he shows up in your 30s or 40s.  Perhaps he is like a fine George Clooney wine and it’s better to wait until its reached peak potential before consuming. Maybe you have already met him but don’t see the point in spending your life savings/acquiring crippling credit card debt to prove your love because picking up his stinky socks and washing his underwear are proof enough.  If you are happy, and he is happy, don’t let BeyoncĂ©’ bully you into thinking you need a ring to justify it.

Either way being over 30 and having to check a “Miss” box on an important document is not the end of the world. If I’ve learned anything from reality television it’s that divorce is much worse so don’t let anybody make you feel like a leper because your prince still hasn’t arrived on his magic carpet belting out show tunes. Plus, something tells me if he likes to sing that much, it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.