I’ve gone to large concerts before. Most of them were to see something I had conjured in my mind while listening to music with my eyes closed. The actual experience was often a disappointment. It took me a long time to learn the difference between loud and good. And of course, this was all before I discovered dancing like no one is watching.  The show last night was so good it might nab a place on my top 5 list.  I’m certainly more than willing to do it again and that’s more than I can say for most things south of downtown. 

The WaMu Theater is an annex of Safeco Field and has some incredible industrial appeal.  A better faux-warehouse for an international raver band has yet to be designed.  Part of me is wistful about what the show at Merrymoor Park could have been like but this venue was my first opportunity for urban exploration in Seattle.  I dropped a micro-dose of LSD and boarded the bus for SoDo.  Venturing alone into the void with nothing but phone, keys and my card collection, I also pocketed an iPod for sanity.  I packed chap-stick and a tampon for practicality.  That’s how I prepare to enter the world while traversing the edges of mind alteration.

If I learned one thing last night, I’m convinced purse size can be directly linked to anxiety level.  When given enough time to “get ready” I find myself looking around considering everything that I could potentially need at a future time.  Perpetually worrying about my future comfort results in uncomfortable burdens.  To avoid this, I analyze and determine my most basic needs, consciously ignoring the thought I’m lacking something.  When it’s time to go, I decide if I don’t have something it can’t be that vital.  There’s nothing other than my health and identity really need to get by.

It also helps I was on a date with a friend that doesn’t mind providing creature comforts, like drinks and my ticket to get in.  He’s also a very stable force that gives me the confidence to act a fool during the show itself.  I really love to let go and dance the fuck out of good music.  In order to do that I need the proper mix of intoxication and self security.  I’ve finally gotten to where I don’t care how I appear.  With the backup of good friends I can take that to the next level – not caring how I act.  This only works because fundamentally I’m a good person.

Previously, the practical side of my psyche thought the only good show is one where I get the BEST of everything.  The best seat, the best table, the best service, the best view.  The wise part of me is ready to shake the silly out of that perception.  Just being somewhere great is all it takes.  Making it the best is entirely up do you.  I stood in that arena on the edge of a massive crowd and when the music started, I felt it.  I started to move with the music, cheer with the crowd and abandon thought.

As energy ebbed and flowed through the crowd I naturally advanced closer to the stage.  I didn’t consciously care where I was relative to the performers.  I just know the music is in me and it carried me deeper and deeper into the crowd.  The drama drew me in with the gravitational pull of Jupiter.  After an hour of dancing I found myself behind a group of women that clearly showed up together.  Shorter than me and determined to keep their semi-circle together, I took up residence behind those ladies and enjoyed the last half of the concert with an unobstructed view.

I may not be pretty anymore.  I’m accepting that, as I transition gracefully into old age.  After last night I realize another distinct advantage I’ve gained recently.  I don’t care what insecure people think of me.  That eradicates the opinion of at least 70% of everyone in any given room.   …  For most places, at least. I’m being generous.