The lights go out, it is dark. A crowd of people are waiting anxiously for that moment when out of the darkness you see shadows of the band, walking across the stage. The crowd’s breath is held for that one moment.

It begins in a second. You think the giants are going to walk right by (because of course they are always at least a foot taller than you), but then they stop, right in front of you blocking all views of anything but their already sweaty, smelly backsides.

Then, the pushing begins. First it is just a stray elbow, then it becomes consistent, banging into you at every move as if you’re just a bland wall.

Next, the stench. Oh, not of excitement. The stench of sweaty “I don’t need to shower for a week” pretentious Northampton college girls waving their hairy pits in your face while hooting like a wounded animal.

Note: Even Ani Difranco was afraid of these Northampton girls.

Before you know it, you’re cursing the heavens wondering why you found this to be “entertainment.” The “what was I thinking?” phrase crossed your mind maybe once or maybe a hundred times. You lose focus on the music and being consumed by the teenage lovers locking lips in your ear, feeling each other up, and grabbing each other’s shit creating body areas, you tend to forget that you paid for this. Or, if you don’t forget, it consumes you. Maybe WTF? crosses your mind, maybe you start hyperventilating all that smoky, smelly air.

This, my friends, is a concert at Pearl Street in Northampton. And it is why, I will not be buying tickets to any more shows at this particular venue.