The day of the big concert is at hand, and I have so many important things on my mind…
I’m going to wear my biggest, shiniest, most uncomfortable (but hardcore-looking) boots I have, even if it means I’ll have to stand in one place for the whole evening.
I’m going to re-dye my dreadlocks. I just can’t decide if I should do it scarlet (you know… they have a song about that color) or my usual color, black.
I’m going to show up early, on a cold evening, without a coat or a jacket… because wearing one would hide my special outfit.
I’m going to wear my big, heavy, black trench coat, even though it’s 90 degrees in the middle of summer, because it blends well with my perplexingly dark personality.
I’m going to spend hours on make up—black eyeliner and lots of glitter—but criticize fashion magazines and American consumerism.
It’s my favorite band! I’m going to wear their t-shirt and a jacket with 50 pins with their logo. I’m going to make a patch by myself and sew it onto my backpack too!
It’s my favorite band! I’m going to dress up like they do for their photo shoots and in their videos… even though this stupid hat is uncomfortable and I’ll never wear it again for the rest of my life.
It’s my favorite band! But I don’t want to appear to be a brown-noser, so I’ll just wear advertisements for all the other super cool bands I like so that people won’t have to talk to me to find out my interests.
I’ll wear a suit and tie (along with my stupid hat). This is my way of rebelling against corporate nine to five culture.
I’m going to brag to my friends at the concert about my vast collection of music by the band we’re listening to… The domestic releases, the imports, the singles, the bootlegs, the solo albums, the odd collaborations, the early years (back when they were hardcore)…
I’ll cleverly disguise my bragging by making it sound like a fancy intellectual conversation that everyone should be interested in hearing.
I’m going to stand in the corner, quietly criticizing everyone else, because I’m here strictly to appreciate the band’s musical talents.
I’m going to look scornfully at the kids in the gothic costumes and mutter to myself, “Fools… These guys aren’t Goth. They’re industrial!”
I’m going to condescendingly look at the younger audience members and think, “I was into these guys before you could even walk.”
I’m going to look at the older people in the audience with their graying mullets and think, “Don’t you have anything better to do than try to look cool? Or do you really think you’re impressing the girls here…”
And then the music starts, and everyone looses their criticizing nature and enjoys the music together….