Joan Jett

I went over to the concert. Tons of people were arriving as I did, so I figured there were likely places to sit.



I found a spot, although there were long placed blankets spread out everywhere, with no people minding them. I think that's rude, to come, lay out a blanket to take up massive space, then not show up til the last minute. It's lazy and should not be allowed.



The space I found was about two feet wide and four feet long in front of someone's small blanket, between it and a chalked line, delineating the walkway people use to get into and out of the Festival. This walkway was crammed with people going two directions.



Not long after I sat down, a couple put their small blanket in the same amount of space in front of an adjacent huge blanket with equally HUGE people laying out on it. 400 pounder type people, two of them, with their cooler. They immediately became angry over the couple occupying the space between the chalk line and the front edge of their blanket.



The couple who had sat down there, seemed to not understand the concept of selfishness at first going on behind them in back and forth remarks between the fat couple. After all, it's a rock concert, not a private picnic.



The fat angry lady was saying their daughters wanted to lay out there. The daughers were not there at the time. The couple could have held their ground, but they got up.



I said, "You can put your blanket here, there's room for three." There was, too. It's a rock concert. People jam together, jump up and down, dance, I was thinking. Not in Linn County.



Soon, the people who had laid out the tiny blanket behind me arrived. A bunch of them. Too many for the small blanket. Pretty soon, one of them wanted to block their area off and did so with pop up chairs, still in the canvas bags. I'm thinking, 'OMG'.



The fat couple's daughters by this time had returned and they were also huge. One began picking her nose. She was deft at picking her nose and complaining at the same time.



But that was not the end of it. Other people began massing across the walkway behind the blankets and chairs of the section closer to the stage. They were standing up.



The people behind myself and the couple began to loudly complain about people standing up, so they couldn't see and how rude that was. Then they began yelling at the people standing up and the people standing up yelled back at them that they were not sitting down. The people on three blanket areas behind me were yelling for security to come and make them all sit down.



At this point, I'm thinking, 'No joy allowed here. I bet they'll try to get me carted off by security if I so much as move a toe to the beat.'



You would not want to be caught in a hurricane, say, and be forced to take shelter with the likes of these folks.



I wondered if they thought this was a chamber concert or a symphany playing. However, I am even terribly moved by classical music. Who is not?



"This is a rock concert, gosh darn it", I wanted to scream at them, "get off your blankets and onto your feet and move to the beat!"



These were not your normal rock concert goers. I finally told the couple, "I'm joining the standers now, to get it out of the way." I got up, and went forward to mix into the crowd standing.



Let the fat kill joy complainers with their blanket territories scream their gripes and sit there, lifeless really, defending the sacred edges of their blanket kingdoms. I wanted to dance.



No one else seemed to want to dance, however.



For awhile, I danced in my tiny crammed space. People were constantly coming and going, getting up, leaving, others squeezing through. I did not recognize a single song. Or person.



I decided to leave. This was not easy as many others were leaving too, even though the concert continued. The crowd pressed together, one massive body press one way, across a narrow foot bridge, and almost as many going the other way. People were congenial about the body pressed crowd.



Finally I was far enough through that the crowds thinned and I hoofed it back to my car and home.



That wasn't much fun. Glad I went. I know not to go again.