Friday, August 08, 2003
Spectator Event
We were at a huge Grateful Dead concert at the Oakland Coliseum, an indoor arena from the 70’s with a harsh utilitarian aesthetic. (Needless to say, this was a few years ago.) Some sort of major sports event was happening at the same time. Someone a few rows down had brought in a tiny television - which, in those days, was pretty cutting-edge. So he was watching the game during the set break. No biggie.
The tv watcher was one seat in from the stairs of the main aisle. Staff were assiduous in keeping the aisle clear. But one kind of yuppie-looking guy wanted to watch the game, so he took a spot on the stairs and just hunkered over like someone trying to park in an illegal space so that it looked legal. He attracted the attention of an usher - an older black woman with a no-nonsense attitude. I couldn’t hear their interaction but the yuppie’s body language was clear - I don’t recognize your authority, you don’t even exist for me, begone. I was offended by his high-handedness. The usher went away, face frozen in an impassive gaze.
In a few minutes she was back with backup. This was a white dude on the far side of six foot tall, at least 250 pounds, muscular, bulky; his long stringy black hair fell well past his shoulders but didn’t obscure the well-worn biker club patch on his leather jacket; his thick jowly jaw sported thick jowly bristles and his broad bony brow beetled with malign intent. She pointed out the yuppie to him. He rushed forward. The yuppie was apologizing - profoundly, abjectly - as he was escorted briskly back up the stairs toward the teeming vortex of the exit. He was not seen again that night.
MORAL: If you want to break the rules, do it politely so that nobody minds. Other things might get broken too.
