Friday, February 25, 2011

Inbetween Mesquite-zza Hut Posts

I like to portray myself as a bit of a music aficionado. I find a lot of joy in researching underground music and dishing it out to my friends in a semi-friendly, semi-arrogant sort of fashion. I've been to over a hundred concerts in the past three years. Music is my thing. But every bit of ethos I had built up was catapulted out the window the night I attended the Justin Bieber concert. Don't get me wrong, I like the Bieb's music as much as the next guy. But, I never, ever thought I would find myself attending one of his shows. But I did.

It all began as a joke amongst myself and a few of my female friends. We said how fun it would be to dance along to "Eenie Meenie" and "Baby" with all of the other fans sick with Bieber Fever. As fun as that sounded, there was one major problem. I am a twenty-five year old man with beard. The only reason I should be attending one of Bieber's shows is if I am taking my little sister. And I had my reputation to think of! But my friends persisted, and persisted, and persisted, until I caved. I rationalized that I needed the experience. I had seen indie shows, classic rock shows, rap shows, but I had never seen the Bieber. So I went. I looked REALLY out of place. I sustained hearing damage from all the screaming fourteen year old girls. And......I had a blast.

-Boy in my Rhetoric class last semester

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