I went with a longtime friend last night to see George Michael in concert at United Center. She had asked me over a month ago if I wanted to go, and the tickets were expensive but we got good seats and I was excited because I don't go to concerts much. In fact, I've only been to a handful of live performances in my life. This was definitely worth it. He did great material from his 25 years as a star, the energy was good and the visuals were amazing. We were standing up dancing in front of our seats throughout most of the show.
I had a great time, in spite of the suburban women who sat next to us for most of the show. They at first appeared to have some class and taste, but this eroded quickly as the concert progressed and they began binge drinking. Before the show they kept talking to us, and the one sitting next to me punctuated every sentence by placing her hand on my knee, which annoyed me. Then they switched seats and a different one appeared at my side. She asked me if I wanted a Xanax. I declined. I was however now ready for a drink, and there was a guy walking around selling beer so I asked for one and he asked for my ID. Xanax woman couldn't believe this (apparently I look too old to be carded?) and asked me how old I was. "I'm 37 too!" she exclaimed, with an earnest look that begged me to proclaim her younger-looking while her friends stared at the floor. "Really," I said, took a sip of my beer and turned back to my friend.
The show started and my friend and I were loving it. The suburban girls took turns disappearing and bringing back round after round of drinks for themselves. At one point Xanax woman turned to me with a shot glass stuffed between her surgically-enhanced tits, as if this were a frat party and this was my cue to extract it using only my lips. I laughed. "It's a joke," she slurred. "Yes, it is," I replied, returning my eyes to the stage. Honey, you're at a George Michael concert. The only men here are guys who were dragged by their girlfriends/spouses — no doubt to earn romance points or atone for some transgression, and gay men. And the gays far outnumbered even the 40-something suburban women in the audience who fell in love with the singer back in the days of Wham, when the gays knew he was one of us even before he did. As the show progressed, Xanax woman and her "sisters" migrated into the aisle, for which my friend and I were grateful because we then had nearly the whole row to ourselves for dancing.
Throughout the show, Xanax woman lived up to her name, fishing through her gigantic purse on the stairs next to the aisle, popping pills and guzzling drinks, attracting the attention of security more than once. Later I glanced over just in time to see her flirting with a group of short Mexican boys (they looked like teenagers) who literally began grabbing at her breasts. She got upset and complained to security, who at this point were fed up with her, and the lot of them were kicked out.
After the show my friend and I pondered why anyone would spend $150 a seat to ignore the show, binge drink and get kicked out of the venue. They could've gone to any neighorhood bar, spent far less and got hit on by men who weren't minors. For me, it was money well spent and I enjoyed myself more than I imagined. I definitely need to get out more often.
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