I am awkward. I am old. And I concert.

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Chances are, if you’ve been to an alt pop or indie concerts lately, you’ve seen me. That chick at barricade. The one who camped out in the hell-inspired sun to garner that spot. Belting out lyrics, dancing with less rhythm than she cares to admit.

Still not specific enough for you?

I am the one with the gray roots, in my 40s, with no kids. Yeah, now you remember.

Now, I do have kids. We just prescribe to a “to each his own” rule at shows. Not only do my kids have no desire to be seen with me (see dancing skills above), but there is something therapeutic about being in a mass of people–of strangers–with similar music taste and who couldn’t care less about my off pitch pipes or my broken groove thing.

But despite my love for live music, at most concerts I get a questioning glance from a mom chaperoning a gaggle of preteens. Or a comment from security about how he bets I would rather be at home. If I were 14–or even 20–no one would question my being there. Add a couple of decades and I seem to stick out like an MCR fan at a country and western music festival.

You die-hard fans–you get me. You understand that music moves souls with no regard to race, gender, orientation or age. But if you are one of the few that wonders why the hell an old woman is alone at a Panic! at the Disco concert, here are a few promises for you:

 

If I get barricade, I will scooch as far to the side as possible. If you are a vertically challenged fan and you come up behind me, I will make sure you can see.

If I am in front row seats, I will sit, as sitting does not impede my ability to dance horribly. I am tall, and I have God-given big hair. I will remain low so you folks behind me don’t have to stare into it. *Disclaimer–if Josh Dun trumpets the first four notes of “Jump Around,” I can’t control what happens next.

If I am near the front, I am not there for reviewing or writing. I am there for soul fulfilling and some deep tissue music massage.

If I am near the front, you can bet your ass I can out sing 90% of the fans there. I may be horribly off-key, but dammit I know the words. And I have even done my homework and can sing along to the opening bands’ songs. Because they deserve some love, too.

If you were with me in the blazing sun, I most likely offered you breakfast. And lunch. And if you are all out of money after buying every piece of merch available, I will buy you water so you don’t pass out mid show.

I have no desire to touch, smell, or be dripped on by anyone on stage. So if Jesse Rutherford decides to do a swan dive into the crowd, I will make way for you to step in and violate his personal space to your heart’s desire. Probably.

 

But most of all, I can promise you this. I love each and every fan who accepts me without question. And those who don’t? Well, that’s the benefit of decades of growing into my own skin…

I just don’t give a shit.

 

 

 

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