A few weeks ago, a man changed my outlook on life. If you think I mean that this happened on Valentine's Day... just no. The incident occurred at a Dr. Dog concert downtown during a Wednesday night. The band was just getting into the set, and all of those who do not realize that even the Beatles were once an opening act were finally trickling in. A group of people quickly closed in the open space surrounding me, ensuring that it would not be a night sans awkward, accidental fondling. The concert's audience was eclectic to say the least: diehard groupies in the front row, grandparents wearing matching knit sweaters, J.Crew-toting University students, marijuana-toting high school students and affectionate couples playing their own handsy rendition of Doctor, doggy style. The people invading my bubble looked like young Charlottesville professionals, conservatively dressed and a tad out of place as they sipped PBR instead of gourmet wine. I thought if our hands just awkwardly grazed, they would not take it as a sign to pass whatever drug they were holding. If anything, they would compliment my cardigan. They never did direct a word toward me, but one of them spoke to me in a different way, like I was Jim Carrey and he was Morgan Freeman. I would say it was God speaking, but actually I was totally eavesdropping, so I know it was this dude.
Anyway, as soon as he finished his beer, this guy started bopping around like the girl in The Exorcist mid-possession, combined with mermaid Ariel flopping on dry land, with a few moves from the "How do their arms spin like that?" section of the Kappa Rap. And he was moon walking. You can imagine my alarm when this spectacle began right next to me. After realizing there was no need to call an ambulance, I simply gawked at him for minutes, wondering how his head could be triple-jointed and whether his mother was a species of jellyfish. I might have missed half of Dr. Dog's set because this man was so absurdly entertaining. For the most part, I did find it fascinating to watch, but I also found myself getting annoyed. It is hard to appreciate a concert when a coked-out bobble head is obstructing your view left and right, up and down. And then he changed my life.
Between songs, my eyes drifted his way again, maybe to see if now was actually the time to call 911. He was standing calmly, talking to his friend about how awesome Dr. Dog sounded and how great they were live. Then, he made an off-hand comment with such unassuming wisdom that it has stuck with me ever since. It was almost like those Xs from the same show - apparently I will not be 21 even by my 21st birthday. The guy said, more or less: "People don't know how to react to real fun anymore, ya know? I'm here having a great time, dancing around, and people just seem so scared. People are terrified by genuine emotion. But, you know, I'm having so much more fun than them, and I just really don't care."
At this point, I turned quickly back to my concert companions, realizing I was judging him visibly as he eloquently tore apart all judgers. Perhaps what he said is really clich
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