Dearly Devoted Girlfriends

This past week was marked with two diametrically different music shows for me. The first show was Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at House of Blues and the second was The Dillinger Escape Plan at The Granada. Of course while enjoying the shows, I could not help but do a little people-watching.

Seen at House of Blues:

A guy in a red shirt near me swaying so violently to the music, I thought he was about to head butt me to the floor. I kept inching backwards onto some unsuspecting girl in fear of getting the lights knocked out of me. During the middle of the show, the same guy's girlfriend appears out of nowhere holding onto a cocktail in a plastic cup. She practically climbs around him like a stripper pole, facing me and sneering at me with painted black eyelids. She's also not only taller than me but her boyfriend and her stripper antics almost prevent me from seeing some of the songs in the show. Needless to say, I was not amused when she disappeared and then pulled the same thing later in the show. Same pose, same sneer.

At least the 6-foot something Dude Bros at the beginning of the show who thought nothing of standing on me moved further away, despite not noticing my petite stature squinting up at them in disdain.

Seen at The Granada:

A doe-eyed and petite redhead with a nose ring holding her boyfriend's shirt and jacket while in the testosterone-fueled pit. She remains unflinching to the people shoved in her way and she cowers once or twice to prevent an accidental blow to the face. She is sympathetic to her boyfriend even when he throws himself to the crowd. He emerges from the swirling chaos back to her, looking like he's about to vomit. She pats his long-haired head affectionately, which belies the emotionless look on her face. I am standing behind the barrier right next to the pit, a step above the spinning assortment of people. Yet here she is, in her summer weather clothing looking tiny and pixie-like in the storm. As the smoke machine spills out off the stage, she looks frightened and concerned about her boyfriend who re-emerges from the mist looking battle-worn. She whispers something into his ear and he nods, before putting his head between his knees. She exits, but returns with a red plastic cup filled with water and two straws. He drinks gratefully and sweetly brushes her hair away from her eyes.

A precious scene in a moment that lacks all preciousness.