Adventures with bastard people
On Friday myself and the other Boston-located Hobartians went to see Mista DeBonis play Mary Sunshine in Chicago. He was friggin' hilarious and the play was good, but that's beside the point. There was rudeness to the max going on in the audience.
We get to the play about 5 minutes before the scheduled showtime. Oddly, they haven't opened the doors yet. Turns out there was some problem with the drummer getting his equipment there due to the crazy snow, but once again, beside the point. The doors open and any pretense to a real line breaks down and everyone rushes for the door. Dan had reserved us seats by puttin' a sign on them as par usual for unofficial reserving of seats. We walk to where Dan said the seats would be, and encounter a disturbing scene as we approach.
Three girls are near the seats I would soon learn to be ours. There is paper on them saying "Glidewell" to save them for us. These girls apparently have a friend sitting right next to our seats. They are talking about the saved status of these seats and the girl sitting down is telling them to ignore the reservation and just sit. They seem somewhat hesitant, so the girl sitting says "oops" and knocks the reserving sign down. It's at this point I see "Glidewell" on the sheet. I immediately throw my coat over the seat from the row behind and say "uhhh, no. there's a sign there, see?" The girl replied with "It looks fake." I say "Yeah, it's not." And we get ourselves to those seats. We proceed to retaliate for the rudeness in one of our usual passive-agressive manners: talking to each other rather loudly about the rudeness of the people next to us. Tim repeatedly uses the phrase "poor breeding." Ryan complains about their extreme rudeness. I mostly laugh. As were are leaving, Ryan refers to them as "bastard people."
Funny thing is, the girls who were trying to take the seats ended up ignoring the reservation signs on the seats in front of us. A few minutes before the show begins, one of the usher-types approaches them and tells them that the seats were reserved and that they would have to move. Sha-booyah. They probably had to sit seperately way in the back. Karma, yo.
The situation actually reminded me of the Arcade Fire concert Tim and I went to back in February. We're with sizeable group of people fairly close to the stage. Three or so girls start trying to push into our group. I'm not having it, however, as I am a wall when at a concert. No one gets through me. The leader of the threesome says "We're trying to get to the restroom." I immediately apologize and let them pass in front of me. However, their bathroom quest seemed to end pre-maturely. In fact it ended right in front of me and several other members of our group. This set the outrage button to "on" for sure. All of us started the good ol' passive agressive tactics. I began talking about their apparent remote-control bladders. Others stated how freaked out they were by the fact that they must be peeing in the middle of the crowd. And the girls had the balls to stay. The nerve. I hate that bullshit.
We get to the play about 5 minutes before the scheduled showtime. Oddly, they haven't opened the doors yet. Turns out there was some problem with the drummer getting his equipment there due to the crazy snow, but once again, beside the point. The doors open and any pretense to a real line breaks down and everyone rushes for the door. Dan had reserved us seats by puttin' a sign on them as par usual for unofficial reserving of seats. We walk to where Dan said the seats would be, and encounter a disturbing scene as we approach.
Three girls are near the seats I would soon learn to be ours. There is paper on them saying "Glidewell" to save them for us. These girls apparently have a friend sitting right next to our seats. They are talking about the saved status of these seats and the girl sitting down is telling them to ignore the reservation and just sit. They seem somewhat hesitant, so the girl sitting says "oops" and knocks the reserving sign down. It's at this point I see "Glidewell" on the sheet. I immediately throw my coat over the seat from the row behind and say "uhhh, no. there's a sign there, see?" The girl replied with "It looks fake." I say "Yeah, it's not." And we get ourselves to those seats. We proceed to retaliate for the rudeness in one of our usual passive-agressive manners: talking to each other rather loudly about the rudeness of the people next to us. Tim repeatedly uses the phrase "poor breeding." Ryan complains about their extreme rudeness. I mostly laugh. As were are leaving, Ryan refers to them as "bastard people."
Funny thing is, the girls who were trying to take the seats ended up ignoring the reservation signs on the seats in front of us. A few minutes before the show begins, one of the usher-types approaches them and tells them that the seats were reserved and that they would have to move. Sha-booyah. They probably had to sit seperately way in the back. Karma, yo.
The situation actually reminded me of the Arcade Fire concert Tim and I went to back in February. We're with sizeable group of people fairly close to the stage. Three or so girls start trying to push into our group. I'm not having it, however, as I am a wall when at a concert. No one gets through me. The leader of the threesome says "We're trying to get to the restroom." I immediately apologize and let them pass in front of me. However, their bathroom quest seemed to end pre-maturely. In fact it ended right in front of me and several other members of our group. This set the outrage button to "on" for sure. All of us started the good ol' passive agressive tactics. I began talking about their apparent remote-control bladders. Others stated how freaked out they were by the fact that they must be peeing in the middle of the crowd. And the girls had the balls to stay. The nerve. I hate that bullshit.
posted by Brian at 2:39 PM
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