Greetings readers. Did you miss me on my brief hiatus? I’m inclined to believe that, once again, no one noticed, because despite what my anxiety tells me, no one is thinking about me as much as I am. Which, at this point is almost rude. Like how much more insane do I have to be to get you guys to notice me? Should I start SCREAMING EVERYTHING!??!?! Something to try.
I’ve spent the past few days up in beautiful Great Barrington, Massachusetts soaking up the sun and the greenery, and boy is it wonderful up here. Beautiful weather, fresh food, and fancy city-dwellers flaunting their crunchiness with overpriced REI gear. An annual tradition for these Berkshire folks is James Taylor’s July 4th benefit concert. It is, as my parents warned my partner multiple times, an EXPERIENCE. An experience of ruthlessness to see who can relax and enjoy soft rock the hardest.
The show doesn’t start until 8 but people arrive at 4pm to make sure they get a spot, since there’s only a meager 210 acres of land. People bring elaborate picnic setups with candelabras and cocktail stations that they schlep in on wagons that could hold several small children. There are fold-up tables and chairs with built-in umbrellas and drink holders you can stick right in the ground. Sometimes I think the reason our government is in shambles is because our best and brightest minds are working too hard on creative lawn equipment.
The concert is always fun and laid-back, but getting there is usually chaos. My family likes to get there early (we’re freaks like the rest of them), and this year we got there half an hour before the gates opened. There was already a line that wrapped around the parking lot, so we knew that anticipation was high. But what we didn’t know was just how vicious these middle-aged, cargo-shorts wearing dads would be about their lounging experience.
Truthfully, I should have known. Dads care about ease and convenience more than ANYTHING. That’s why they tell you where to sit on the subway so you can get out quicker, or why they check four different apps to get directions. It’s why their pants have so many pockets! You could need a compass at any time!!! So really, I knew they’d be overly invested in how quickly they can find a spot that’s both comfortable and has good visibility.
But still, it was a surprising treat to see JUST how invested they were. Some choice quotes I overheard:
(a family walked up behind another family in line) “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing? We’ve been waiting here for an HOUR.”
“I think you’ve reached your allotted amount of space per family, buddy.” “Yeah, not quite.”
“You STEPPED on our BLANKET. That is so rude. That’s one of the rudest things you can do.”
You really forget how easily people become assholes, especially people who step on blankets.
There’s a lot of things that contribute to this crowd’s sense of entitlement: wealth, privilege, the fact that they spend $67 on cured meats specifically for this concert. It’s a strange mix of mellowness and tension that I think is actually just called “being a white person?”
Anyway, the concert was all of those things: relaxing, stressful, nice, weird. Sometimes being up here is all of those things. It’s strange being in a place that feels so removed from everyday life because the world can be crumbling apart (as it is now) but around you, all you see is pleasantness. It’s kind of eerie. Also, it’s not like you’ve done anything to *earn* that pleasantness. Or at least I haven’t. The most impressive thing I’ve done is eat 63 hot dogs in one sitting. Jk I WISH that was me!!!
Ok I don’t really have any grand conclusions to make, which I know is a bummer for you, readers. You come to this newsletter for my biting social commentary!!! But I’m actually going to the emergency room right now bc I slammed my fingers in a car door this morning lol. But maybe my pain is just an offshoot of the pain ALL women endure under an oppressively sexist and patriarchal world… ok commentary alert!!!
Thanks for reading this SLN (silly little newsletter). Til next time!