Not A Tall Tale

| Duncan, BC, Canada | Friendly | March 1, 2016

(My mom’s band has been asked to be the last performance on the biggest night of the local folk music festival. I have spent the event with her, and when the big moment comes, get in the front row of dancers. I sidle sideways trying to find a good spot to film from, and settle in. Then, from behind me, I hear a sad voice speak up.)

Voice: “Awww, why’d you have to stop in front of meee?”

(It should be noted that at 5’2″, I am by no means tall, so I turn around to discover that I had decided to stop directly in front of a woman no taller than my shoulder. Naturally, I moved over a bit…)

If Music Be The Fruit Of Jealousy

| Squamish, BC, Canada | Romantic | August 24, 2015

(I’ve meet a guy at a music festival and we really hit it off, spending most of the weekend together. I want to see a particular musician perform, and he and his friend seem enthusiastic, so we all go together. The musician comes out on stage to massive applause and plays one of my all-time favourite songs.)

Me: “God, isn’t he awesome?!”

Guy: “He’s all right, I guess.”

Me: “Not gonna lie. I’m basically in love with that dude. Such a great performer too, all that energy.”

Guy: “He’s probably coked up out of his mind.”

Me: “…I’m aware of his substance issues, since half his last album was about them.”

Guy: “I’m just saying, you know, he’s not THAT amazing.”

Guy’s Friend: “Man, what’s your damage tonight? You LOVE [Musician], like, almost as much as she does.”

Me: “Seriously?”

Guy’s Friend: “Oh yeah, he’s a major fan. ”

Me: “…Wait, are you actually jealous? Dude, you’ve known me all of two days! Are you for real mad because I have a crush on a rock star?”

Guy: “I’m not jealous! I’m just saying he has issues.”

Me: “I think his music is great. I don’t want to marry him or something.”

Guy: “Would you sleep with him?”

Me: “I don’t really think that’s even a possibility, but wouldn’t you?”

Guy’s Friend: “He would.”

Guy: “…Okay, yes, probably, but that’s not the point!”

Me: “So the point is you want me to what, invite you along if for some reason I get the chance to have sex with [Musician]?!”

(That did actually make him laugh and admit he was acting weird. The rest of the concert was fantastic and as far as I know none of us had sex with Musician.)

No ID, No Idea, Part 14

| Baltimore, MD, USA | Right | October 18, 2013

(I am a volunteer bartender at a big music festival. We are required to check everyone’s ID upon ordering a drink. It’s now late into the festival, and customers are already pretty drunk.)

Customer: “Can I get a beer?”

Me: “Yes, can I see some ID?”

Customer: *as he’s pulling out his ID* “Okay, but it’s fake!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s fake. Will you still serve me?”

Me: “Absolutely not!”

Customer: *shoves ID in my face* “Does it look fake!?”

Me: “You just told me your ID is fake. I cannot serve you.”

Customer: “Fine! I’ll go over here!” *moves a foot over to the next bartender’s line*

Me: “I will tell them not to serve you.”

Customer: “Seriously!? WHAT THE H***! I JUST WANT SOME ALCOHOL!”

(At this point the bar manager has witnessed what has transpired.)


No ID, No Idea, Part 13
No ID, No Idea, Part 12
No ID, No Idea, Part 11
No ID, No Idea, Part 10
No ID, No Idea, Part 9

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If Music Be The Food Of Love, Part 2

| Edegem, Antwerp, Belgium | Romantic | July 22, 2013

(I’m a Red Cross volunteer. We offer basic first aid and serious emergency aid at local and national events. Tonight we’ve set up a small post at our town’s music festival. It’s not unusual for people to walk up to us and ask for help, such as directions, ear plugs, or to borrow a piece of equipment like scissors and tape. A well-dressed, polite and friendly-looking guy walks up to me, holding a poster.)

Guy: “Excuse me, do you have a big marker or something similar? And could I just sit at your table with it for a minute, please?”

Me: “Maybe. What’s it for?”

Guy: “I just wanted to write something on the back of this poster to hold it up for the singer to read it, but I don’t have anything to write with and the tables are all full.”

Me: “Hmm, okay then. We don’t have markers, but here’s a pen. You can take that chair and do your thing at the table.”

Guy: “Thanks very much!”

Me: “Sure.”

(I read what he’s drawing: the sign says in big letters “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday, could you please say Happy Birthday Nina?”.)

Me: “Ah, so that’s what it’s about. Well, good luck, and I hope the singer obliges!”

Guy: “Thanks, I sure do too!”

(He goes back into the crowd, hides the poster from his girlfriend, and acts like nothing has happened for a while.)

Me: *to my colleague* “Shall we keep an eye on how that goes? It’d be awesome if the singer actually did it!”

Colleague: “Yeah, it would. Good thing they’re right in front of us.”

(We see him walk around the stage a few times, but can’t really see what happens due to the crowd. After about an hour and just before the band’s last song, he goes to the toilets. I subtly walk into his path when he comes back out.)

Me: “Hey, don’t forget your little surprise! We’re all rooting for you!”

Guy: “Thanks, but the singer doesn’t want to do it.”

Me: “Ah, what a bummer.”

(My colleague and I conclude that our little distraction for that evening has hit a dead end and forget about it. When the next band starts setting up, he suddenly comes back up to me, beaming.)

Guy: “He did it! He just waited until the end of his performance!”

Me: “Really?! Darn, we didn’t hear it!”

Guy: “She loved it! You should’ve seen her face and how she almost tackle-hugged me!”

Me: “Awesome, I’m glad it turned out like that! Wish I could do those things sometimes, but that’d require me having a girlfriend of course.”

Guy: “Yeah, thanks, and too bad about that. But speaking of which, I better get back to her. She didn’t want to let me go anymore!”

Me: “Best not keep her waiting then!”

(A few minutes later…)

Me: *to colleague* “Not Always Romantic?”

Colleague: “Yup!”

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Then Game On

A Cold Replay Post Coldplay

| TX, USA | Right | November 5, 2012

(We’re at a party during a large music festival. Drinks are free, and there are a number of other activities at the event. We’re standing in line for the video photo booth. The employee operating the booth overhears our conversation.)

Me: “I pity whoever has to review all of these drunken videos.”

Employee: “That would be me.”

Me: “Oh… they make you look through every one of them?”

Employee: “Yeah, I’ve seen so many bare breasts.”

Me: “They flash the camera? Don’t they have to sign away their rights to the footage?”

Employee: “Yeah, but here’s the thing you have to know about drunk girls at a music festival: They aren’t very smart.”

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