the ocean

World War Z

 

So I went to the Jay-Z/Justin Timberlake concert last night at Soldier Field. I haven’t been to a big concert like that in a long time, given that I generally avoid crows like Sharon Stone avoids age-appropriate clothing, so I definitely took away some key learnings.

 

First of all, on a busy night like that, even the worst bars in America will be packed as though they were hosting the public stoning of Chris Brown. And if your friend happens to forget her ID, they will look at her as if she just shot an infant in the face.

 

Second, people will not enjoy it when you come into the concert an hour late, wandering around with your cameraphone flashlight to check out all the row and seat numbers so you can find your spot. Apparently, this somehow impairs their enjoyment of SexyBack.

 

Third, Justin Timberlake is sort of starting to resemble Andre Agassi. And not like young, mavericky sex symbol Andre Agassi; we’re talking full grown, weepy, male pattern baldness Andre Agassi here.

 

Fourth, it is unreasonable to hope that Beyonce will appear. Or, for that matter, Oprah. They actually do have a few other things to do.

 

Fifth, prepare for a contact high. Don’t plan to visit your probation officer or apply for welfare in a red state the next day.

 

Sixth, there is a wide range of apparel that people apparently deem appropriate for a concert. Swimwear is not out of the question.

 

Seventh, do not be alarmed by all of the pedicabs. It’s actually kind of fun to walk past them as they struggle uphill.

 

Finally, it is not necessary to actually know any Jay-Z or Justin Timberlake songs. In fact, judging by the girl sitting with her arms crossed in the row in front of me for the entire concert, you can attend just to complain about knowing any of the songs the whole time.

 

Let’s hear it for the musical arts and, of course, for America.