Concert Etiquette (Or the Appalling Lack of)

I have always enjoyed attending concerts, ever since first seeing the Young Rascals (yes, they were young then and so was I) as a sixth grader at what was then called Westbury Music Fair. Seeing Springsteen on back-to-back nights at Nassau Coliseum and Madison Square Garden in 1978 during the “Darkness on the Edge of Town” tour may have been the highlight.

Anyway, as the years have gone on, I have gotten more selective about who I see. Ticket prices have soared, Ticketmaster is a rip-off monopoly (“convenience fee,” my arse), shows at casinos charge top dollar for 90-minutes-including-the-encore shows and, frankly, the behavior of the fans has declined.

OK, so even though I’ve never been caught in a mosh pit, what exactly is the proper etiquette for a concert attendee?

I ask because last week I went to a fundraiser concert featuring Christopher Cross. (Yes, so some of my musical taste is still stuck in retro mode.) The music wasn’t exactly of rock-you-out-of-your-seat variety (yes, that Christopher Cross… “Sailin’,” “Think of Laura” and the theme from the movie “Arthur”), but all of a sudden the woman (make that, female) in front of me jumps up and starts gyrating and clapping (offbeat) to the music. She is blocking my view, but I let it go, channeling the zen-infused Californian in my New Yorker mindset, at least until a couple of choruses had gone by.

Then I tapped the back of her seat with my right foot. Her husband (boyfriend, parole officer, date of the night, whatever) then turns a glance toward me and I motion with my hand for her to sit down. He then says to Dancing Queen, “Hey, he kicked your chair, he kicked your chair!” Next thing I know Macho Boy says, “My wife makes more money than you do!” Huh? And how does he know this, and why? And he’s sure it’s true? (Well, at least I learned they are married. Certainly must make more money than him, maybe that’s the rub.)

Then DQ stops dancing long enough to rotate 180 degrees and be completely in my face. She launches a series of F-bombs that would make Andrew Dice Clay envious. And to finish, she insults my wife too, calling her a princess for some unknown reason. Hey, I’m just trying to enjoy a concert that’s a fundraiser for a homeless shelter! (And my wife is not a princess.)

DQ is obviously drunk, but I’m sure her lack of suitable adjectives is still limited during the few hours of each day when she’s sober (and probably making all that money). The two blondes next to the boisterous couple, who we initially thought were their friends, turned around to send apologetic glances. The people to our left immediately offered the open seats between us and them, a welcomed demilitarized zone. So we quickly shifted over, where our views were better and quieter.

By the end of the concert the couple had rushed the stage and she was busy doing a whirling Stevie Nicks imitation while the husband exaggeratedly laughed and gesticulated as if he was enjoying his wife’s slovenly behavior. (He probably will later, but I digress.)

So back to my initial premise: what is acceptable behavior? No one else we could see in the audience was on their feet at the time DQ started her stand-up routine. Should I have just grinned and endured it?

It reminded us of the Sheryl Crow concert we attended late in the summer at Humphreys. We had awesome seats, something like the fifth row stage right. At Humphreys, lots of people buy tickets and forsake their seats for sitting along a rock wall to our immediate left. While this is acceptable, others with poor seats try to jam upfront and squish in with friends (or make new friends, if you are an attractive and most likely semi-tipsy female who’s at least a 5 on a scale of 10).

This is what happened to us. We ended up with about five women in three seats in front of us, and of course, they needed to stand up from the second song on. I blame Humphreys because while the venue has a force of burly guys in red Elite Security shirts, they do very little and certainly are sheriffs without badges.

The familiar cry of “Hey, I paid my money and I can do whatever I want!” doesn’t work for me here. Hey, I have a driver’s license and that doesn’t mean I can break traffic laws. Perhaps, that’s it; there are no laws here. Consideration for your fellow concertgoer doesn’t buy you a thing. People could be singing the third chorus of “Get Together” and they still would be willing to block your view, talk during the entire concert or keep leaving and returning to their seats throughout the show.

I guess the solution is to only frequent venues that offer a soothing concert experience. That’s part of why we love Acoustic Music San Diego shows in an old church in North Park as well as those in Poway and Escondido. The patrons are polite and respectful, the acoustics are outstanding.

As for the Dancing Queen and her husband, there are times people like this make me want Charles Bronson to show up out of nowhere (would be tough since he died in 2003) and pull a “Death Wish” maneuver on her. It wouldn’t make any difference how much money she made then.