Welcome back to “Your Worst Concert Experience,” the new Paste feature where we share our readers’ lowest tales of shame and degradation from the sordid world of live music.
If you’re interested in submitting your own story, and I hope you are, drop us a line at [email protected]. Entries can be about you or someone you know, and if you want it to be anonymous, that’s cool too. Our only rule is: “The more shameful the better.”
This week, we have a smorgasbord of short, miserable scenes from our readers. We begin in the Midwest…
“Young, Punchin’ Turks” by Bruce:
My buddy Andy & I attended a Rod Stewart concert in Indianapolis that was a very good show. As we were leaving along with thousands of other people, a drunk guy who I’d never met slurred in my direction, “Are you looking at me?”
My friend asked me if the guy was talking to me and I said I suppose he was, but no big deal. A few seconds later, in the midst of a sea of exiting concert goers, the drunk guy who I had mentally dismissed reappeared and hit me with a pretty solid punch just under my left eye.
I was stunned less by the punch than by the fact that a complete stranger had just slugged me, but my friend Andy wasn’t stunned at all. He grabbed the guy and then the drunk’s friend grabbed Andy and they wrestled through the throng of people and off the walkway and onto the ground. When I got to them a concession employee who had witnessed it all had the drunk’s buddy restrained and Andy had a good hold on the drunk. We asked a couple of police officers to arrest the guy who had hit me, but they wanted no part of it so the two guys just took off without penalty.
“Accidental Threesome” by Natasha:
When I got the chance to go to Austin City Limits last weekend, I was ecstatic. At the end of Friday night we decided to head over to see Muse. While I am not a huge Muse fan, word on the street was that their live show is fantastic. I still don’t know if that’s true.
As is true with any massive show, people were tightly packed together. Between the 95 degree heat and the brief rain we all smelled like wet dogs. That gross sticky feeling makes you want to avoid physical contact as much as possible. Or at least it does that for me. As the show started a couple to my left began to get…er…rather involved. I tried to ignore it as a man a decade older hit on me and urged me to stand my ground to the crowd pushers. The concert was loud but not loud enough to cover the sounds of the macking couple. My stomach lurched but I wanted to dance and enjoy the show so I stayed put.
But they got closer. After making out for the first 45 minutes of the set they started to bend towards me. I squared my shoulders and pointed my sharp elbow in their direction. This did not deter them. Now practically on top of me, I was desperate to regain my space. His sweaty mop of hair pressed against my neck and I felt a drop of stray saliva hit my neck! The girl reached out seemingly to pull herself closer to him (not possible) but instead grabbed my shoulder looping her finger around my bra strap with her pointy nails.
Okay. I was NOT getting pulled into some disgusting threesome with this horny couple. “Stand your ground” my friend’s voice whispered in my ear. I wanted to use both hands and shove them. But as a passive Midwesterner, I simply cringed. Mr. Sweaty Curls was already pretty… excited as she slid her other hand DOWN his pants. CRAP! My head was spinning wondering how wasted you have to be to not realize (or not care) that you were still grabbing me instead. My flirty acquaintance grabbed my hand and pulled me forward rescuing me from a certain death (or sex).
This sharp move jostled them backwards into a calm lesbian couple who were not pleased at the situation. Sorry girls but urgent measures had to be taken! The last glance I had of them was him licking her fingers before they got lost in the crowd to inevitably scar some other innocent soul.