By MARY FYE
GLASGOW — What is it about being in a crowd of people that turns some of us into people watchers? No, not creepy stalking types. You know what I’m referring to — those who just observe the human interactions. Before you call the police, I should remind you of that last time you were at the mall, Walmart, the grocery store, or ballgame. Admit it: you had a moment where watching the crowd was more captivating than your original purpose for going out in the first place. That’s what I mean by being a people watcher.
Take for example our recent family outing to see Night Ranger, REO Speedwagon, and Styx at Nashville’s Sommet Center. Let me tell you, there’s nothing like an “old school” rock concert to bring out the best and worst in people. Walking in, I was first drawn to some man with a mop of scraggly blonde hair that would’ve made a circa 1985 Jon Bon Jovi proud. I never saw the man’s face, but from his big ‘80s hair and his supposedly vintage clothing, the only thing that had changed in the past 20 years was his number of birthdays.
I know I was overly-critical of the bands as well. I kept thinking, “They were old when I was a kid — how can they keep rocking? And should they?” They did seem to enjoy their chosen professions and the audience either enjoyed the music or the memories it brought back. I distinctly remember roller skating to several of the songs.
Throughout our adventure, Erin was the most observant. “Mom!” she hissed at me once. “I think this guy’s a millionaire or something!” Sure enough, the man on the opposite row from her looked enough like Aristotle Onassis to merit more than one glance. Erin, a people watcher in training, kept me posted on his activities. “Hey! He just pulled out a big wad of money with a rubber band around it” and “That woman he’s with is really young. Do you think she’s his daughter?” were the highlights of her observations.
Another point of interest was the rather inebriated woman standing beside Erin. She danced wildly throughout the entire show. She would occasionally look at Erin and wave, and Erin would give her one of those “you have to be crazy” looks. At the end of the show, the woman came over and spoke to my kid. “So, you really like this music, don’t you! I can tell. You were dancing!” That was not true because Erin was too busy watching to dance. But the woman continued, as if she had an interested audience, not a horrified pre-teen. “Are you in a band? Do you play an instrument?” At that point, the woman’s date grabbed her by the arm and escorted her out. Erin just turned to us, rolled her eyes, and said, “I guess she was drunk or something.” I followed this with a mini-lecture on appropriate behavior in public, even though I think Erin learned her lesson just by observing.
All in all, it was an experience to remember and dream for avid people watchers. The only thing that gives me pause are those people who, like one of my friends, watch the people who watch people. Wonder what they thought of me?
