A few Friday nights ago, I went to Trippie Redd with a couple of my friends. We were all pretty excited, none of us are huge Trippie Redd fans, but a concert is always a good time. I purchased my ticket the day they came out and we had General Admission floor seats. The concert started at 8:30 p.m. and we were outside the Mullins Center around 7:30 p.m. ready to go. We waited outside in the cold with a line that didn’t seem to be moving. As a senior, I was well aware this was going to be the case, lines for concerts are always long at UMass, but I thought it would be worth it after we got into the show. Boy was I wrong.
Before being allowed into the concert everyone is separated based on gender so that a security guard can be properly assigned to you. All of my guy friends breezed through security and each one of them got in, hidden alcoholic nips and all. I watched them high-five from the warmth of the Mullins Center lobby as the women’s line crept along in the cold. My girl friends and I patiently waited, nothing hidden in our pockets. As soon as it was my turn, it was clear to me the security guard standing before me must have had a bad day. She was not in a good mood. It must have been a momentary lapse in judgment because the way she barked orders at me made me feel like a dog. The whole process must have only been a minute or two, but it was one of those moments where time stretches to immeasurable length.
Then the real “pat down” began. She searched everywhere cupping my ankles and shaking out my jeans. I understand it’s necessary, but the whole thing was just inconvenient. No wonder the girl’s line moved slower than the guys. All the girls in front of me had their nips found and thrown away. I was eager to ask my guy friends how they got their’s past. They simply shrugged and said the security guard just hadn’t looked that hard. I found that to be interesting. How could guards with the same background have such vastly different search techniques? It just didn’t seem fair.
After we all made it through we made our way down to the general admission pit area and instantly I knew I had made a mistake. It was madness down there and the opener to the opener hadn’t even come on stage yet. Kids from all different schools were there as if UMass-only events aren’t packed enough. After that, we just stood and waited. And waited some more.
Then the crowd started to get impatient. As a woman, I know that I am, on average, shorter and smaller than the guys around me. I think women are hyper-aware of this because we are constantly reminded that we need men as our “protectors.” Well, in this case, I really did. People were shoving girls (and guys) to the ground or out of the pit altogether. It was a mad-house. Mosh pits were popping up left and right and I could barely keep my feet steady on the ground. I was separated from my friends and pushed up to the front where I was elbowed and pushed. Albeit an accident, with my lack of self-defense moves, the actions of those other kids were dangerous. One girl actually had to have EMS stop the show and carry her out of the pit.
I love concerts and I want to be part of the crowd that gets to see artists perform at their school, but this was just an awful experience. A really good artist is going to have to headline in the spring to even have me consider attending.
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