One would think a person who feels they have a fairly good grasp on pop culture and music in general would be absolutely addicted to concerts and crowds; to the smell of other people's sweat and whatever 2 dollar booze they are sloshing around in their cup. How could a person who loves the complete rush and thump of live bass drum and the mating calls of a really well placed guitar solo feel so ambivalent when it comes to going to "the show"?

The first concert I attended was an invite from an acquaintance in eighth grade. We were going to see Live at The Gorge. Does anyone remember that band? Live? Lightning Crashes? Of course, they were very popular at the time and there was no question I was going to put on my best pair of jeans, the ones with the strategically places rips that I had been whiddling away at with my pen every time I got to math class. I would also wear the most disgusting old t-shirt I could find. Something I found in with my dad's old 70's workout clothes, because then it would look like I had gone to Value Village and picked up something "vintage." This was back in the days when it was cool to tie your old lumberjack shirts around your waist. I'm pretty sure I had something plaid with me, and off I went to see Live at The Gorge when I was thirteen with no parental supervision (at the concert, we did of course have to get dropped off and picked up).

Well, the show was amazing because P.J. Harvey opened for them, and I didn't know it then but she has become one of my favorite female influences. I like to put a list of them in my pocket in case I ever pursue a career in music and need to draw them forth in an interview with Rolling Stone. But more than the concert it was the crowd that got me. A writhing mass of sticky young people running around with no direction or purpose other than to rock. It was a moment in time that I will never forget: freedom from the confines of adolescent restrictions, free to walk around in the same place as twenty somethings, free to bum a smoke from someone sitting on the hill. And that is exactly what I did. I procured a cigarette for the four of us to share and for five minutes I was a teenage legend. And then some drunk lady spilled her beer on my head as she tried to climb over a fence. The night was truly magical.

I used to fancy myself sort of a music snob. I always took great care to have a ready opinion of anything; everything. Music was the pair of shoes that I wore that made me look really sexy but were horribly painful to wear for long periods of time; my stilettos with the chrome heels. These days I wear these shoes less and less because I'm just too fucking lazy to put them on. You understand.

I feel like first experiences are misleading though. No matter how much you want your virginity back there is now way to recreate your first time. There is just no way you can pretend you don't already know the ending to the CSI episode you're watching. I die inside, just a little, because I have become a bitter, bitter whore of a critic who can't walk down the street without finding something to complain about.

Perhaps it was Bumbershoot, that age old pastime of Seattlites that dates back to 19 something something, and yes, I am old enough to remember when it used to be free, although in my heyday it cost a mere 18 dollars a day to get in and see all the really important bands. The second time I was there I made my way through the crowd at the mainstage in order to have a prime spot for Blues Traveler, a band I felt very little for at the time. Between the bottle of wine I was carrying in my Nalgene bottle and the half pack of cigarettes I had smoked in the last hour, my head was killing me. And what do you know, people in Seattle, keeping to traditions set in stone many moons before, MOSH to Blues Traveler. I was conveniently kicked in the head by a stinky sandaled foot. This and the fact that I saw several people in the crowd that I had been trying very hard to erase from my memory made me think harder before I ever stepped into the front row again. It was going to take drugs. Lots of interesting drugs to drag me back up and bear hug Modest Mouse's mains at the Crystal Ballroom.

But what am I really getting at here? It's nice to know where it all began, but in essence I have developed a very deep hatred for the crowd in general. Strike that. The public in general. Pretty much everyone I don't know, but especially when I am at a concert. I try very hard to look as annoyed as possible so people know. I know this doesn't work and makes me look like a loser, but in the moment it just feels right. If you ever see me at a concert, know that I am standing and staring at the band, but in reality--in my head--I am staring at you in my peripheral vision and silently judging you.

I have noticed from the many unhappy shows I have been to that there are several crowd archetypes that I really can't ignore. The first, and usually the most annoying, are the two girls in the front row who are dancing inappropriately. It depends on what type of show we are watching, but usually it isn't rap or hip-hop and they are somehow finding people to grind on. Grinding is absolutely ok with me in the right environment, i.e. "the clubs," but seriously, get out of here with your arrhythmic pelvic thrusts. The guy you're dancing with is nasty and you don't even know it!

The second and almost equally annoying set of people is the very basic hippie couple who look exactly the same. Not only can you not tell who is the girl, but they are bouncing around the room having a much better time than me and that always makes me so mad. Go back to your String Cheese concert. Apperently I inherently loathe other people's happiness, which may or may not make this entire piece null and void.

No concert would be complete without the really gigantic person who has no concept of how small everyone is around him/her, but in this case it's a her. Giant girls are even worse than guys because they would like to think that they are small and demure so they pretend they can stand in front of anyone. You cannot. You are huge, and every time you do an awkward ass wiggle I see it up close and personal because my face is closer to it than to your shoulders. I want to kick this person and see if it entices her to move. I would pretend it was an accident and say I'm sorry after it happened.

There is also the guy in the front row who thinks that the concert would be so much cooler if he jumped on stage and gyrated a bit before diving aimlessly back into an appalled crowd. These guys are usually so drunk that they have mistaken someone else's 15 minutes of fame for their own. Mostly I feel sorry for these poor fellows, but sometimes I feel even more sorry for the band because what do you do with a drunken spectator?

Wouldn't you know, I even have a few more crowd people I've observed that really bother me. I'll make a short list:

• people who can ONLY travely in large packs and can't stop talking to each other
• people who think that we live in a Disney cartoon and swing their drink around spilling it on whatever and whoever
• people who can't just stand and watch; they constantly are moving from the crowd to the bar to one friend to the other friend (it is also very common for this person to be a drink spiller as well)

I can't think of any more right now, but they are out there ruining my concert.

In theory, the crowd is a perfect place for a person like me because I can seem anonymous and inconspicuous, and I'm pretty sure I would never REALLY kick someone no matter how my heart ached and my brain pushed my foot forward. There is always something to be said for that one person who catches my eye and seems really cool. Maybe it was you. They are few, but they do exist, and probably in a universe that I don't subscribe to, EVERYONE at the concert is cool. When I become a hippie I will let you know if that is true.

I will probably never stop going to shows and I will probably never stop hating all the other people who go to shows, but in the end the music makes it worthwhile. I usually enjoy sitting and listening even if the music is bad. Go figure.