I Herd That

 My wife has only recently forgiven Billie Joe Armstrong for exhorting her to get her (massive expletive) hands up in the air. For a while, I tried to soothe her by reminding her that those ruffled feathers came about as a result of purchasing a ticket to see Green Day in concert, and part of that experience is being badgered into what is essentially minimal audience participation. "Couldn't he ask nicely?" was her response. 

At our most recent trip to the rock an roll arena, Mister Armstrong toned his act down just enough to be encouraging without offending. At least that's how my wife felt when the show was over. 

This recollection comes on the heels of reports from a concert in Houston over the weekend where eight people were killed and dozens more injured. It started as a rap show and ended as a stampede. The victims were crushed by a surging crowd of more than fifty thousand. As a clock ticked down to the appearance of the headliner, Travis Scott, concertgoers swarmed to the front, compressing all that humanity into an ever-shrinking space. Those who died were all quite young, between fourteen and twenty-seven years old. Authorities on the scene said that the initial cause of death for many was cardiac arrest, and bystanders described the chaos of bodies being pulled from the throng and CPR being performed in attempts to revive them. 

Which brings me briefly back to the crowds that used to faint in the presence of idols like Elvis and The Beatles, Nobody ever died trying to get a glimpse of the Fab Four. It wasn't until 1979 that eleven people were trampled at a Cincinnati concert by The Who. At the time, this tragedy was used to eliminate the practice of "festival seating" which rewarded those who ran the fastest and pushed the hardest with front row seats. 

Seats. Right. What seats? No one is going to be sitting, not if it means a chance to get one step closer to the object of that night's obsession. At the Astroworld Event in Houston this weekend, voices could be heard calling out to stop the show, even as the show went on. Honestly, I have had my fill of being pressed up against the stage, and wondering if I would be able to find my way back to my friends if I decided I needed to go to the bathroom. Or breathe. Which is why I am quietly thankful for the hike in ticket prices that tends to keep me somewhere up in the nosebleed section. 

And far away from the crushed to death section.