75,000 is a Crowd

Attending all three days of Lollapalooza just wasn't in my plans this year. I decided a one-day pass was enough, and I think I made a good decision. I am just not that into Rage Against the Machine or Nine Inch Nails, and those were the headliner bands for Saturday and Sunday. I know, I know. Don't judge my taste. I'm just a little "softer" than that.

Friday, however, boasted a great lineup, so my friend Katie and I walked down there after leaving work early at about 3. Standing in line at the box office (since they'd never emailed me my ticket), we just melted, sweltered and waited. And waited.

We finally got in, and I bought the cold beer that I'd promised Katie for her patience, and we planted ourselves on the ground near the Playstation stage to see Cat Power perform. The Black Keys were just finishing up behind us, and the crowd was beginning to surge our way. We secured our ground space, and sent the requisite text messages to our friends onsite to see if they could/would find us, rather than us finding them.

They did, and we kicked off a great afternoon of really cool music. I must admit, however, that I made several observations while there, and am happy to share them with you. Maybe we can discuss?

Observations from a People Watcher

1. Tattoos.
What is up with the tattoos? Our entire generation is covered in them, and I just don't get it. I'm all for freedom of expression, and personal creativity, and generally showing off your personality, but with INK? On your skin? It just doesn't do it for me.

I feel like I am the exception these days because I don't have a Chinese character inked on my lower back, or a four-leaf clover hidden on my hip, or a butterfly by my ankle, or a sunshine on the nape of my neck. Even girls that don't look like they'd be covered, are. And don't get me started on the tats the guys are sporting! I felt like I was standing in a NBA locker room.

I only wonder...what will we look like as octogenarians in the nursing homes, when these tattoos start to sag, wrinkle and fade?

2. Kids.
I am torn on this one. I saw several young people holding kids, or with kids riding on their shoulders above the crowds. The sweaty, feisty, fun-loving crowds of people drinking heavily, smoking even more and toking quite a bit. What I'm torn about is this: are those the really cool parents who are raising kids that will enjoy life's action? Or should those kids have been left at home with a babysitter engaging them in more age-appropriate activities?

I can't decide. Part of me thinks it is super cool to expose children to all types of people, music, learnings and life's ups and downs, many of which can be seen and experienced in a crowd like that. But all the noise? And smoke? And swearing?

That part I'm not so sure about. But they sure will be tougher when they get to kindergarten. When they turn up their nose at Sesame Street in favor of Radiohead, though, I'm pretty sure that their teacher won't appreciate their musical influences.

3. Sweating.
I always claim, as a G.R.I.T.S. (Girl Raised in the South) that I don't sweat, I glisten.

That is just a bold-faced lie. Friday's high temps reached past 90, and it was just plain sticky. Everyone was sweating instantly, and it just didn't quit. Any hope of being cute, or well made-up, or with coiffed hair, was just shot.

It was hot, and I was sweating. There, I said it.

4. Beer.
This one goes unsaid, but I have to say it anyway. When it is hot, and you are sweating (see #3), beer just tastes GOOD. And better than it ever has before.

Paying $5 for a plastic cup of it, 30% of which will be spilled by some drunk reveler on your way back to your group, however, isn't so fun.

But, when the deliciousness of the cold beverage hits your lips, you forget that your legs are covered in the sticky substance and just guzzle away. Because then at least you don't notice the crowd-sludge down there, or quite frankly, your legs much at all.

5. Live.
Doesn't everyone sound much better live than you'd expect them to? I even enjoyed some random bands that I normally wouldn't tune in to. Maybe it is the noise, or the crowd's energy, or the aforementioned beer (see #4), but I just like live music.

The louder the band, the better the experience. And isn't that most of the point?

Or maybe the crowds just drown out those bands that aren't so good, or whose singer is overly digitized in the sound studio because they can't carry a tune, but the drums and the guitar and the other instruments make it all sound ok.

6. Service.
Can I just put a call out to all people who work in Customer Service positions?

If you hate people, can't stand talking to strangers, and are totally unhappy with life, then maybe a customer-facing job isn't for you?

Just my two cents.

7. Karma
If you read Friday's post, you know that I'm angling for a little good karma to swing back my way.

Which is precisely why, when I saw a stranded cell phone on the ground as we left the show Friday night, I picked it up. I answered the next call, and realized that the owner was desperately in search of it. Dreaming of big rewards (or at least a good Thank You hug), I agreed to take it home and return it (with Brett) on Saturday to the Lost & Found tent. I promised I wouldn't sell it, throw it away, or give it to anyone else.

I didn't even get a rousing Thank You on the phone on Saturday when we spoke. Maybe the healthy deposit in the good karma bank is thanks enough?

8. Dancing.
I think I figured this one out in 7th grade at a boy-girl party, but it is still true.

It is really fun to slow dance to music with a cute (taller than you!) boy dancing behind you with his hands around your waist.

Makes even the sweatiest (see #3), drunkest (see #4), tattoo-free (see #1) girl feel special.

9. Standards.
As I discovered when I backpacked across Europe nearly 10 years ago, when you're hot, tired and need a rest, you'll just sit down anywhere.

In total disregard for my outfit, my cleanliness or my safety, I found that on Friday, in the midst of 75,000 people, would just cop a squat wherever my heart desired.

I didn't even lose a hand or get kicked in the head. Now isn't that great?

10. Energy.
There is just something so very special about the energy of Chicago in the summer.

Everyone knows it, everyone feels it, and everyone contributes to it. The crowds are literally humming with the good vibes of great weather, and smiles grace everyone's faces. This could have something to do with the $5 beers (see #4), but I'll go with a more positive spin.

I'm guessing this is why Lollapalooza isn't hosted in January? Oh, that and the threat of frostbite, but I'm going with the increased summertime energy.

11. Skyline.
Not that I needed convincing, but now I'm literally sold all-in on the fact that the Chicago skyline is the best in the country.

Lit up at night, sparkling through the light clouds, the skyline makes you feel small enough to respect the city, and big enough to feel a part of it all.

I do wonder, though, are those cleaning crews leaving all the lights on, or do people in a big city really work that much?

12. Mob.
No, not the mob that Chicago used to be known for, this observation is less Italian, less black-leather-jacket-wearing and doesn't drive a Cadillac.

This mob is the one that will follow each other into any line, for any reason, without question. Oh, a line? Great, I'm in. What am I waiting for? Who knows—these people were all doing it! I'm standing here and maybe when I get to the front of it, I'll figure out what it is for.

Even when the signs hanging above their heads indicated otherwise, people will stand in the wrong line only to feign ignorance (or annoyance at their own stupidity) after the service person indicates they're in the wrong place.

But, that guy was doing it!?!

13. Hydration.
It does help the headache the next day if you actually drink something other than beer (see #4) during the day while you sweat to death (see #3).

I did it, and survived. My mother, and my internist, would be so proud.

Though, when the beer kicks in and the crowd surges in unison (see #12), the water bottles (empty or full) don't feel good if they clock you in the head.

14. Outtage.
For AT&T to have been a major title sponsor of the event, their service coverage was atrocious.

Not a good brand experience to be standing UNDER the AT&T sign while receiving or sending text messages to friends only to realize that they are arriving over an hour delayed.

Yeah, that doesn't really help the "let's meet here at X time" texts get through. Note to AT&T: GET MORE COVERAGE.

15. Movement.
This one is obvious. When you see 75,000 people leaving an event all together, it looks like an ocean rippling with a stiff breeze.

See the above photo—that probably is only half of those in attendance, and if they were all walking toward you, you'd agree. Gives crowd surfing a whole new meaning for me.

16. Exit.
I'm not a urban engineer, an event host or a city official, but this one seems pretty clear to me.

Maybe if you are in charge of an event where that many people are expected, and you know that the final show will conclude at approximately 10:30 pm, and you know that every single person out of the 75,000 that attended will be leaving all at once, it would be a good idea to have more than ONE exit?

I'm fairly sure the shrubbery that I mounted and climbed over (along with 15,000 of my closest friends) will never look the same. And, the National Fence company fencing? Yeah, not so hard to get around.

17. Polite.
When passing through a crowd, it is pretty incredible how far a little politeness goes.

Slam through the crowd with no regard to people's feelings, or feet, and you're likely to get stonewalled.

Gently nudge, needle, slide and dance your way through, while distributing a fair amount of "I'm sorry" and "Excuse me" and you're likely to see the seas part like Moses was behind you.

18. Fireworks.
Even though I've had the distinct privilege of seeing fireworks no less than 10 times this summer, over Chicago's lakefront and Michigan's beaches, I still get a little tingly every time.

The outburst during the Radiohead set, over the water to the southeast side of the stage, just reinforced what was already an explosive show. Thanks, Chicago, again.

19. Mirrors.
I know I'm getting older. Pretty aware that I have had a few birthdays to confirm the fact. I know I'm not 16, or 18, or even 21 anymore. I just forget it until I'm in a crowd, faced with 16-, 18- and 21-year olds.

As much as I'd like to pretend, it just isn't the case, and I just don't look that young anymore. Mirrors try to prove to me what I suspect is true, but it isn't until I'm standing in a sea of high school or college-aged kids that it really hits me.

However, I bought my beer legally, am not going home to the suburbs to Mom's house and won't have any homework due this fall.

20. Advantage.
As you may have read, I am tall.

And, boy, doesn't it come in handy. Not only can I see the stage when most people are staring at aforementioned tattooed necks, I'm also the one that people can spot in a crowd.

Sure makes that whole concert experience more enjoyable. And I can breathe better, too.

##

That's it. My top 20 observations from inside a crowd of 75,000.

Are you sorry you missed it? Or glad you did?

Judgment Day

Human behavior is just amazing, isn't it?

This weekend, continuing right on through today at lunch, proved to me what I've always known...people are strange. Weird. Curious. Interesting. Annoying. Fascinating. So Very Different.

With a summer weekend fully in swing, we had a large group go down to Taste of Chicago, the annual event that brings people of all shapes and sizes into the city. They literally SWARM in from the 'burbs. Which makes it interesting, and all of those other adjectives. Plus a few I can't type here.

Walking through the throngs along Jackson, in the shadow of the Sears Tower and with the lake breeze cooling you off, you saw small people, tall people, fat people, skinny people, people of all races, people of all ages, people who haven't showered since before Bush was in office, people who will dance to anything, people who clearly don't own a mirror, people who's self-confidence far outweighs their ability to judge fashion choices, people who will pick fights for no reason, people who can't handle the heat, people who can't handle their alcohol and people who just plain can't dance.




And, people who should have just stayed home. (Not the above pair, mind you). Of course, with Stevie Wonder playing, who's judging?

Then, yesterday was the annual Pride Parade in Chicago. I heard on the news that there were approximately 300 floats/groups in the parade, and more than 450,000 spectators lining the streets. There were similar observations about people than the day before, but this time the extremes were out.

Watching the masses from a third floor balcony, you saw straight people, gay people, he/she transvestite people, she/he transvestite people, naked people, small people, tall people, skinny people, fat people, trans-gendered people, drag queen people, pasties-on-boobs people, thongs-on-men people, leather fanatic people, cowboy people, cheerleader people, S+M people, motorcycle people, questionable gendered people and people who clearly started boozing far earlier in the day than we had.




And, most of the people who were naked, well, just shouldn't have been. Of course, it is the Pride Parade, so who's judging?

Today, however, was back to the grind. Back to the office, despite the glorious weather and the insatiable urge to be outside reading a book in the grassy park.

I treated myself to a salad from the cafe across the street, and while I did, I had the chance to observe even more of Chicago's people.

One couple in particular.

She was leading him (a leash may have been present, though subtle) through the salad bar line as she narrated every last move she made, and dictated every last item he should/could/would and shouldn't/couldn't/wouldn't eat. Seriously.

EVERY ITEM she put on her plate she discussed. You know, "I love green peppers. You don't love green peppers?" and "Don't you dare eat the tomatoes. They still haven't figured them out yet." and "Don't even think about getting blue cheese. It's fattening." and "Oooh. Cous cous. I love this stuff. Not sure what it is made of, but I love it."

He just moseyed through the line, listening to (or more likely ignoring) her every word. He had a wooden expression and dead eyes, but I'm just saying.

It took everything in my power not to tell her to grab a huge green pepper and bite it. Isn't a salad bar the culinary equivalent of freedom of choice? Shouldn't the poor guy have been entitled, by the sheer nature of the course of a salad bar, to choose whatever damn vegetable he liked, without her running narrative?

That's just my two cents.

Of course, it is Monday in a holiday week, so who's judging?

Hokey Pokey for the Masses

I'm convinced that the crowd mentality at a concert serves two explicit, yet simple, purposes:

One, to make you feel like you're part of something bigger than yourself. You can sing out loud, dance like a fool, scream your head off, and still utterly blend in.

Two, to make even the worst dancer feel like they have a fighting chance.

At the Bon Jovi concert last night, watching the show from an upper level box, we had a bird's eye view of the crowd. While Jon sang (quite well, thank you very much), he gave instructions to the crowd about what to do with their hands:

Raise them up! Wave them side to side! Pump your fists now! Two hands spastically waving, a la Jazz Hands! Double fist pump! One, Two, Three!

It was hilarious to see this from above. We decided that it was simply an adult form of the hokey pokey. Basically, a guide for white people with no rhythm.

It worked. The crowds moved en masse to the bass drum beats, and the adoring fans were one.

Only the waving mullets were off beat.

Mary Lou Retton I am Not

Picture this:

Crowded Michigan Avenue bus. Shopping bags lay at every person's feet. Hats, gloves, scarves all making people sweat. More people get on. Crowd inches to the back. Bust driver shouts. Shuffling of the bags. People stamping their boots to rid them of the clumped, mushy snow. More people get on.

I am standing, with my gloves off (to avoid aforementioned sweating) and am gripping the pole that is just above my head, running horizontally all the way to the back of the bus. Metal, slimy, sticky, shiny. Lovely.

As the crowd surges, and the bus lurches, one must tighten her grip.

I was practically swinging from the bar. Would've been if God hadn't graced me with extra long Go-Go-Gadget arms.

By the time I got home, I had those little white half moon blisters on my palms.

Team USA Gymnastics is CLEARLY not in my future.