I immediately bought two tickets. Determined not to go alone. And boy am I glad I had the foresight to do that.
I brought my sweet friend, Shawna, who I knew from the start was a full on Old Crow fan. She was so excited to go to this concert. (Seriously, how had she not heard about it either?) Her enthusiasm was completely contagious. So even though I'm not usually the excitable type, I got pretty excited.
Like nearly everyone else, Old Crow Medicine Show came on my radar after hearing "Wagon Wheel." But in my defense, that was years ago. Years ago. Long before Darius Rucker took to singing it on all the air waves. I've road tripped all over the US and particularly the South. My family roots run deep near Johnson City, Tennessee. I once dated a fiddle player in a bluegrass band. I've been to Uncle Dave Macon Day's Old Time Music Festival in Tennessee. Buck dancing is my kind of entertainment.
If you've never heard of buck dancing, check out this video.
The opener was a band out of New Orleans, the Deslondes (pronounced like DEZ-londs, rhymes with blondes). Shawna and I were both so glad to be introduced to them. Creative and inventive. Each musician equally sharing the stage. What a fun performance to watch!
After their set, technical issues delayed the show for an hour. And while I had said after the Deslondes finished how glad I was that the audience wasn't too thick, it seems I spoke too soon. The hour wait with no updates on what was happening, and no where to go in the tiny venue, left us standing on the asphalt the entire time, waiting and waiting and waiting. An hour later, the show went on, without apparently the generator and therefore stage lights. But as I said, buck dancing makes me smile, so naturally, I don't care about flashy lights and all the extras. Plus, we had a pretty good view where we were.
But by this time, it was a full on crush. And apparently a crush doesn't hinder people from getting their dance on. I decided early on to hold my ground. I was not going to be pushed aside by the gals smoking pot and twirling circles behind me. I had been standing in the same spot for 3 hours at this point. There was no way I was giving up my place. Mama calls me mule headed for a reason.
The first half of the show there was a lot of jaw clenching on my part. Trying to enjoy the music while simultaneously being groped, grabbed, grinded, pinched, prodded, pushed and shoved. It was nearly more than I could handle. Then out of nowhere some guy jumps on stage right and dives into the crowd immediately to my left. Unfortunately for him, it was early enough in the show that the crush hadn't gotten too thick yet. Everyone stepped out of the way and he landed square on his face on the asphalt. That was just the beginning of some serious attempts to mosh it up.
I planted my feet. Glad for the flat boots I'd worn, which proved much more useful than heels or sandals would have in that moment.
The mosh scene behind me soon caused enough commotion that event security was standing in front of me trying to determine who the instigator was. After holding up the music for a few minutes and threatening to kick some folks out without actually, I think, taking any action, Old Crow pulled out a Grateful Dead cover singing Dire Wolf, "I beg of you don't murder me. Please don't murder me." Which I found rather appropriate in that moment, because I wasn't certain I would make it out alive. And even if I did, I was wondering if event venues have policies for damages done by and to attendees. I mean, I had just bought my red gingham shirt, which I rather like, and I was pretty certain if things didn't calm down, the very least that was bound to happen is that poor shirt was going to be destroyed.
Luckily, things mostly calmed down with a change of pace in the tunes. And only hyped back up again at the end of the set when two men, one on each side of me, tried to weasel their way through. Luckily for me, I had teamed up with the couple next to us, and the guy and I basically had become a wall since the earlier incident. He was a brick, and people didn't mess with him, even though he wasn't that much taller than me. I found it completely unfair that because I was a girl who didn't have a guy protecting her that I was being treated with more disrespect than he was because a bunch of nimrods thought they could push me around. Boy were they wrong. I was not having any of that. I should not have to hire a bodyguard to enjoy myself at a concert.
I heard the guys behind me say, "I think we can still do it." I knew they were coming. I knew they were going to try to squeeze by me or try something. I didn't know what or when, but I was not going to let anyone treat me differently because I am a girl.
Sure enough a hand grabs my left shoulder and tries to push me aside. I pushed that hand away, turned my head, and said, "Get back." At which point, I see his buddy trying to move in on my right side, and I turn to him, and say, "No." Apparently those self defense classes I took way back when were right. If you say, "Stop. Get back!" with conviction, even guys much stronger than you will listen. I always thought it was baloney, but I was wrong. When some isn't expecting you to stand up for yourself, and you do, you catch them off-guard. Remember that ladies.
After Old Crow left the stage for the second time, and the crowd started to clear, the woman whose husband was the other half of the wall turned to me and said, "You're a badass!" Her husband agreed labeling me the best person to stand next to at a concert.
And thanks to our skills at protecting our coveted front row real estate, we scored a set list from the crew!
Look, we survived! Even my new shirt. I am so thankful Miss Shawna was with me last night. I am sure I wouldn't have made it through that rough and tumble crowd without a friend nearby.
All-in-all, I am glad I got to see Old Crow in person. Although I might need medicine if I ever decide to see a show like that again!
And someone really needs to tell Ketch Secor that Oregon is NOT the Evergreen state, as he incorrectly stated over and over and over again. For shame. Oregon is the Beaver State! And we're proud of it. So please, please get that right next time you come to town.