Ghostland Observatory
When I went to Ghostland Observatory’s concert, I didn’t expect to have a pair of breasts rubbed over my arms so frequently that it started to hurt from the constant friction. I believe the girl must have been on x or something - to want to touch my arm that much, you have to be out of your normal state. At first, I thought she would give up - realize that my arm is just a normal American arm - and an arm of a girl to boot. About five songs into it, I started to fight back, holding the sharp end of my elbow in her direction so that when her breasts lunged for me, they would be poked. This didn’t work. At all.
However, I expected something of this nature to happen. American concerts are very much like American roadways - people behave badly. They step on your feet, they cut in front of you, they push you around. So, I kept the cup of melting ice left over from my Vodka tonic, just in case someone got too rowdy and needed a reminder that I was standing in my spot and they had no business in that spot.
I tipped it in her direction. Every time her boob was up against my arm, a little water sloshed on her.
That didn’t work.
So, I started pushing. Every time her boob looked like it was about to bomb my arm, I shoved her back a little. Just a little. Then, in between songs, I would shout to the guy next to me, “This girl must think I’m gay. She’s rubbing her breasts all over me.” Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure he was gay and this may have hurt his feelings. I was desperate and no longer thinking. For the next song she disappeared, and I was so so proud of myself. It was not long lived. She came back. I kept shoving. When another girl behind me tried to cut in front of me, I exploded on her. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? WHAT THE FUCK!”
I believe boob-girl left eventually. When I found Greg after the concert, he told me about an ass girl who wouldn’t stop rubbing her butt all over him. Figures. I get the boob, he gets the ass.
Ghostland Observatory - Shoot 'Em Down
http://southsidediscotech.blogspot.com/2008/10/ghostland-observatory-house-of-blues.html
However, I expected something of this nature to happen. American concerts are very much like American roadways - people behave badly. They step on your feet, they cut in front of you, they push you around. So, I kept the cup of melting ice left over from my Vodka tonic, just in case someone got too rowdy and needed a reminder that I was standing in my spot and they had no business in that spot.
I tipped it in her direction. Every time her boob was up against my arm, a little water sloshed on her.
That didn’t work.
So, I started pushing. Every time her boob looked like it was about to bomb my arm, I shoved her back a little. Just a little. Then, in between songs, I would shout to the guy next to me, “This girl must think I’m gay. She’s rubbing her breasts all over me.” Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure he was gay and this may have hurt his feelings. I was desperate and no longer thinking. For the next song she disappeared, and I was so so proud of myself. It was not long lived. She came back. I kept shoving. When another girl behind me tried to cut in front of me, I exploded on her. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? WHAT THE FUCK!”
I believe boob-girl left eventually. When I found Greg after the concert, he told me about an ass girl who wouldn’t stop rubbing her butt all over him. Figures. I get the boob, he gets the ass.
Ghostland Observatory - Shoot 'Em Down
http://southsidediscotech.blogspot.com/2008/10/ghostland-observatory-house-of-blues.html