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.)



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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!”


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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The Perils Of Information Underload

| | Right | July 23, 2009

(I’m a band host for a Norwegian band and am working at a music festival in Trondheim, Norway. An irate lady comes up to me.)

Lady: “What the h*** is going on?”

Me: “This is the Trondheim Rock Festival.”

Lady: “But it’s in the middle of everything!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

Lady: “I have to go all around it to get to the other side of the city center!”

Me: “Yes, yes, you do.”

Lady: “But this is outrageous! How can you do this without telling people on beforehand?”

Me: “Well, there’s been a lot of publicity on TV, posters on the walls, and in the newspapers. It also takes place the same time each year.”

Lady: “Hmph! I think you should get something done about this. You can’t expect people to remember, look at posters, read newspapers or watch TV all the time!”

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