Last night I went with my homies (or something), which included Adam and Jackie, to see Hot Chip. I had fun, although the show didn't blow me away or anything (there was that period in the middle where the songs were really long, kinda slow, and unfamiliar and I got bored).
Everytime I go to The Vic I remember how much I hate shows in medium-sized venues, which are the kinds of places where you get to experience humanity full-on, right in your face. For example, at shows like that there are the assholes who say, "I HAVE TO GET AS CLOSE TO THE STAGE AS POSSIBLE BUT I AM NOT GOING TO GET THERE UNTIL TEN MINUTES AFTER THE HEADLINER STARTS TO PLAY." (I'm pretty sure they think in all caps, and, if it were possible to think in a specific font, their thoughts would be in Comic Sans.) Unfortunately, we were standing near the stairs so most of the traffic bumped into us at some point during Hot Chip's opening song, and Jackie, for one, got a little aggravated, and I think scared a lot of people.
The best part was when this group of three young ladies, two white and one black, who tried to push by Jackie. I noticed it when the black girl yelled at him, "You spilled my beer!" She then turned her almost-empty cup upside down, spilling the rest on Jackie. Immediately, I thought, "DON'T DO ANYTHING JACKIE. IT'S THE ONE BLACK GIRL AT THIS HOT CHIP SHOW AND IT'S PROBABLY BRITTANY." But then I realized that it was, in fact, not Brittany, and I turned around. I approve of you being an asshole if I like you, but if you're some stranger, you get what's coming to you.
(I should mention that about ten minutes later, Jackie turned to me and said, in a daze, "Oh, shit. That wasn't Britticisms, was it?" He had mentioned before the show how he hoped to meet her if we saw her at the show. OH, BLOGOSPHERE.)
Also, why the hell do people stand directly in front of me while I've been dancing? I'm talking to you, my tall, Aryan friend in the red track jacket with "POLSKA" on the back. I was confused; did you want me to grind you? Did you want to be the little spoon? I wasn't going to stop dancing just 'cause some dude was all up on my jank, even though I knew he wasn't REALLY into that. But I had to teach him a lesson, which was that you don't throw off my groove, no matter how straight you are. I have an angry, half-Mexican, possibly-hallucinating gay on my side who will break your face open.
I didn't see that many people I knew last night, which was good because I didn't have to avoid eye contact after all. There was the moment, of course, we all can relate to: you're five feet away from someone you're not really talking to anymore, and you're both aware of it, and you're trying to hold off that uncomfortable, but unavoidable, greeting. That happened, and it wasn't too awful, and I survived, as we all do in those situations.
Also, Hot Chip ended the show with a cover of this song, and it was a delight: