Citizen Grope

Cameron and I went to see Alice Smith and Citizen Cope on Thursday night. This makes Cameron extremely awesome because she is way more pregnant than anyone else who was at the show, and still rocked out like a champ.

When we got to Terminal 5, we stood back and surveyed the scene, trying to decide on the optimal spot to stand. "Let's go feel out the crowd," Cameron said, and neither of us knew at the time how apt her statement would be.

We chose a slightly elevated spot right in front of the sound guy, which made it a nice viewing area and also a perfect place for people to trip all over themselves. You couldn't even really call what we were standing on a "step," yet it was far enough off the floor that I got a squishy handful of at least one large man, and almost ended up wearing my beer.

Ah, feeling the crowd, one love handle at a time.

Our other observation, which Penny had warned me about, was that the crowd was really young. Prior to this show, I wouldn't have considered Citizen Cope an aphrodisiac, but I will never make that mistake again. In every direction we looked there were teenagers making out with each other. I don't care if this makes me sound old, but I seem to have reached the point where spending a concert attached to someone else's face is an unappealing prospect.

Cameron and I stood on our ledge, directly behind a couple who went one entire song without breathing. And when it was over, he walked off in one direction and she pushed past the two of us, her eyes very unfocused, and ran directly into the railing we were leaning on. She let out a little whoosh of shock, and then felt along it drunkenly until she could make it around. And then she went back to the bar.

Because a lot of Citizen Cope's songs sound the same after a while, the falling and the face sucking were highly entertaining. Cameron and I agreed that we should not move up any further towards the stage, lest we find ourselves spontaneously making out with each other. It seemed to be a very real possibility.

For a better post on feeling old at concerts, check out Todd Levin's guestblog on Dooce.com.