They must not know

There are places where you can sit down for two hours:

The coffee shop.

The bookstore.

Your couch.

Dinner.

The movies.

A play.

The park.

An open mic.

However…. the one place you should NEVER EVER, EVER be seated for two hours is a concert. Especially not a BEYONCE concert!!!

My girlfriend and I bought—ahem, splurged—on tickets to see Sasha perform at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City last night. We practiced twerkin it, droppin down low and sweepin the flo’ wit’ it and all the bootylicious moves we could do so we could tear it up at the show. We were READY.

Now, if my memory serves me well, I’ve been to at least eight concerts, from Janet Jackson to Fiona Apple, and not once did I sit down for the entire show. But when Bee came out on the stage, the crowd in floor seats went crazy, while the dorks in the elevated seats, well, stayed seated. It was like being at a funny movie where you’re the only one laughing. There were four people in my whole section who were making noise, clapping and singing along. Not a soul was moving, save a few here and there who never sat down. But there were three of us in my row who could no longer stand it, and by the time Bee did “Baby Boy” with these fooooiiinnne brothas sans shirts, we were out of our seats. (That dutty wine does it every time, nahmsayin?) We were gyrating and singing and hooting and hollering, when I heard a faint whine underneath the drum. “Sit down!!” Ignoring it, I continued dancing and singing. Then Bee broke into a rendition of “Murder She Wrote,” and I forgot where I was. But my jam was again interrupted with an even louder, “Sit DOWN!!” This time, my friend heard it, and she turned around. “This is a concert, so why don’t YOU stand up??”

Pause.

At least, I thought I was at a concert. .. I don’t even sit down when I’m at home watching music videos, so why would I sit down at a live show? WHY???? Is that not the whole point of going to a concert, the reason musicians go on tour--so fans can go crazy, sing all the lyrics, do all the dance moves, wear t-shirts and carry posters?? The concert is the venue where you let it all out, scream til’ you’re too hoarse to talk and dance til’ your feet are too sore to walk the next day.

But I’m not hoarse, and my feet don’t hurt at all. I really behaved more than I should have yesterday. It all started with my uncharacteristic decision to follow the rules and leave my camera behind, which I regretted immediately. And for the record, had I been in Philly, I wouldn’t have sat down. But, as a guest in the shanty town that is Atlantic City, I behaved myself. However, what made me even angrier—and I hate to take it there, but it’s what happened—was that when the white girl in the row in front of us stood up and danced for several songs after we were asked to sit down, they said nothing to her (the party poopers were also white). So I made up my mind that when Bee did “Check on It” and “Get me Bodied,” I WOULD NOT SIT DOWN. And I didn’t. Thankfully, the lifeless people behind us left by then, and I was able to wind it back without being yelled at.

My friend and I were not the only ones upset at the crowd’s lameness that night. Beyonce was not happy. In fact, I think her feelings were hurt. She performed her heart out for a sleeping audience. She stopped the show at least three times to say that she wasn’t used to such a quiet crowd. “I’ve never done a show where people were so quiet. I’m not used to this, y’all,” she said in her H-town drawl. I was embarrassed to be in that crowd. By her final song (“Irreplaceable”) she commanded everyone to get out their seats. There shouldn’t have been a warm seat in that audience, and she shouldn’t have had to go there, but clearly, some people don’t get out enough to know any better. So Bee, you probably won't ever read this, but if you do, know that you had four fans in the back who were showing you all the love we could.