An Open Letter to a Fellow Concertgoer (AKA, It was a Miracle that a Murder Didn't Occur by the End of the Night.)

Dear Woman Who Sat Two Seats Away from me during Last Night's Nylons Concert,

Thank you for enhancing the concert; you really made it a night I’ll never forget.
 

I’d like to start by congratulating your efforts to join the group. They may be an all-male a cappella group, but that didn’t stop you from trying. After everything you did, I'm sure that the Nylons' manager will call you soon with an offer to join to the group. They'll rename it The Nylons and a Pair of Leggings. Cause you're in a category all your own, you special snowflake.

 

The Nylons, also known as "I'm pretty sure 1/2 of them are gay."

 If you were worried that your attempts at fifth-person harmonizing weren’t heard on stage al the way from the balcony (where we were sitting), you can stop being concerned: everyone heard it. It was especially clear during the group’s cover of I’m Yours by Jason Mraz, where your ooohs and aaahs and Hey-ey-ey-AYYYYYY managed to ruin what was once one of my "happy place" songs. Because of you, I now have it filed under "makes me rage like I take a combination of steroids and bath salts" songs.

I also had to marvel at your amazing clapping skills; although everyone was happily clapping to the beat, you decided to show us up by making extremely loud and complex beats like a cheerleader on cocaine.

Hear me clap, hear some more,

Look at me, the attention whore!

 

Were I wearing this shirt with no bra underneath, I would
have ripped it off my bare body and exposed myself to the
world, as long as she promised to wear it to every concert
she ever went to in order to warn other audience members.
Cause I'm a giving person.

I also think you were trying to start a trend with your clapping. Another trend you attempted was getting the audience to wave their hands in the air during especially poignant songs. Even though you didn’t persuade a single person to join in, you kept blocking the view of the spectators behind with your wildly flailing hands for a full two songs. For that perseverance, I applaud you.

 

I would also like to commend you on your incredible focus. It is amazing that you never noticed the dagger-dipped-in-poison-that-will-slowly-melt-your-insides eyes that I gave you every time you managed to be louder than the singers on stage.

 

The rest of the time I looked like this, cause I'm
a polite Canadian. But really, I felt like this...



Your piece the resistance was during the group’s last song, which also happened to be one of their greatest hits, the Lion Sleeps Tonight. While you still continued your clap, clap-clap, clap, clap, clap-clap beat and your harmonizing, you also decided to make a noise that I could only describe as a mixture of Xena the Warrior Princess’ battle cry and a tropical parrot’s trilling. And let's not forget the reverential "wow" you cried out every single time someone hit a high note which, needless to say, was heard every other fucking minute during the Lion Sleeps Tonight.

 

So once again, thank you for making this concert so memorable. I'm sure that my future children and grandchildren will hear stories of you, and how you made me feel.

Love,

Christine.

P.S. I'd stop doing this shit at concerts, before someone bitch slaps you. Bitch. xox