An Open Letter To The Person Behind Me At A Concert | The Odyssey Online
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An Open Letter To The Person Behind Me At A Concert

Because for some reason, you always spill your drink on me, no matter what.

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An Open Letter To The Person Behind Me At A Concert
Consequenceofsound.com

I love concerts; I love the energy, I love to see the performances and I love to do a little people-watching. But there is one thing that happens to me every single time I go to a show. This isn’t an exaggeration, I really mean this happens to me EVERY TIME.

I get to my seat, excited for the show to start. I start talking to the group of friends I’m with or my parents. I’m having a great time.

Then out of nowhere: a sudden gasp behind me, and a crashing, followed by a splashing. My back is cold, my legs get drenched. Someone has just dropped their drink right behind me, and now I’m forced to sit from about 8 p.m. until the time I get home damp, slightly sticky and having the faint smell of beer follow me around like a bad perfume.

You may think I am exaggerating a bit when I say that I get something spilled on me every time I go to a show, but let me assure you I’m not.

When I was in 7th grade, I went to an Avril Lavigne concert. Escorted by my dad, I was the only 7th grader that walked out of the arena smelling like a frat party. Over the summer, I saw the Foo Fighters. By the time the Dropkick Murphy’s exited the stage, my purse was covered in beer, and the t-shirt I purchased was sopping wet, soaking up all the contents of the beer the guy behind me spilled.

So here’s to you, the person that always ends up behind me at a concert and proceeds to spill their beer or soda.

My one question is this: How the hell do you manage to spill a drink that cost about $10 as soon as you get back to your seat? Or why do you put it on the ground and then somehow forget it’s there, kicking it over, and sending it cascading down the back of my seat?

I went to see The 1975 at a standing-room-only show. Even though we were all standing, the extremely inebriated, denim-jacket-wearing boy next to me dropped his beer on my shoes. Now, we could blame his intoxication, but I’d rather blame my luck.

I’ve seen my fair share of concerts, and I’m planning on going to many more. But as I leave my house, I just know that there is someone, somewhere that’s going to be sitting behind me, beer in hand, ready to make my night a little soggier.

Please take this as a plea from me to you: if you happen to be sitting behind me at a concert, please (I AM BEGGING YOU PLEASE) try to keep your cup in your hands, and as far away from me, my purse and my novelty concert t-shirt as possible.

Sincerely,

The Unfortunately Unlucky Concert-Goer

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