Tuesday, August 26-Concert

How did I allow my brother to convince me to come to the Linkin Park concert? Don't get me wrong, I love Linkin Park, as well as almost any other kind of music that you can think of. What I don't enjoy, however, are concerts in the slightest.
I stand next to my brother a good many rows from the stage. Of course, everyone else in front of us are standing too, so I can hardly see anything. All I see are a thousand fists in the air and bright lights and lasers that randomly flash across my vision. Most people don't go to a concert for the sole purpose of seeing the band, but when you can't see them at all, it kind of diminishes the excitement.
The place is also far too crowded. People on all sides jostle me, and if we weren't so packed together I probably would have fallen down by now and would've been trampled.  Claustrophobia has been creeping up on me for some time, but it's an hour into the concert and I'm not so sure that I'm going to make it much longer. Someone's elbow drives into my ribs, and I have to resist the temptation to shove back. My personal space bubble has been popped the moment I walked through the doors, and it doesn't show any sign of coming back anytime soon.
Of course, and you can call me old for this, but the noise is a little too much. Everyone around me, especially the girls, are screaming endlessly in my ear. I'm starting to think that they do not need to breathe at all when they are excited; it never ends. They are so loud that I can barely understand the band, even though the are loud enough to give you hearing problems in the future. It's just an endless symphony of clashing and banging and shrieking in my ears, and I can't distinguish who from what and what from who. What's the point of going to a concert if you can't hear anything that the band is playing, let alone understand it? The drummer is being a little too enthusiastic; he is almost drowning out even the girls' screams. When he clashes against the symbols, I feel like someone just stabbed a needle through my eardrum. This is not very enjoyable at all, I'm not ever sure how I'm thinking about what I'm complaining about. It's like my mind is still trying to retrain some sanity and thought and this concert keeps barging in and taking everything over. Of course, my thoughts don't go down that easily, so they fight back, like they clearly are now. Now my head is a war-zone, and it results in a crushing headache. That it turn aggravates my weak eye, making me start to feel sick. The bass in my chest, though a cool sensation at first, is combining with my headache and is making me feel nauseous. I can't stand the noise, the shoving, or the random blinding lights anymore. Once the song ends, I manage to shout into my brother's ear and tell him that I'm really not feeling good. Like the good brother he is, we leave the concert to my ultimate relief. I can't believe I blew thirty bucks just to come to an hour of sensational assault. Music should be enjoyed by oneself, or with a small group of people. After all, music triggers each person's emotions differently, and my emotions just can't stand being crammed in with all those other people's feelings.