I went to a concert once, back in 1996. I was crazy about Lenny Kravitz, and he was performing with Neil Young, Blues Traveler and a couple of other acts for the H.O.R.D.E festival. I was in my early twenties, and always out for an adventure.
This concert was held in a venue that allowed 20,000 people, and it was sold out.
As cool and awesome and great… yet I hated it.
The noise, the smells, the crowds, the overall HolyCrapThisIsAlotOfPeople just overwhelmed me. A few beers into the first performance, and here I was trying to find a way to create some space around me. A personal bubble of no elbows, no body odor, no cool people passing me a joint. Perhaps even back then I was an old lady, trying to find some peace and quiet. Forget the party, I wanted a pleasant gathering where we’re here for the music, so simmer down!
I’ve had minor panic attacks since then, again usually in large crowds. Whitey took me to a St.Louis Blues hockey game once (versus their most hated rival, the Detroit Red Wings) and it happened. We had great seats, and I thoroughly enjoyed the game, but walking out with the crowd of emotionally-charged fans almost crippled me. Whitey noticed right away, and shuffled me to an empty stairwell above the river of people shoving each other out the doors. We had to wait a good thirty-minutes before the crowds dispersed and I felt comfortable leaving.
The last large event we attended was a San Diego Chargers game, again, a heated match played against the Giants right after Eli Manning dissed the Chargers by turning down their offer and moving to New York. I was pumped to go to the stadium and be a part of the ESPN televised Monday night game…. and yet again, found myself swearing up and down to never, ever go to a venue as large again no matter who or what the event was.
I like small towns. Small venues. Small events. They mean more to me, and I enjoy them far more than BIG BAD BOLD BODACIOUS towns, venues or events.