rules of engagement

Both Sunday and Tuesday nights were spent in the midst of a seething mass of Nine Inch Nails fans. Both were great concerts, but there is a downside of spending two hours plus, per night, in a moshpit. This may surprise you.

The mosh is a place with no rules. No rules is pretty much the point, actually. However, some guidelines could be put into place for mutual enjoyment :

1. Boys, watch out for people smaller than you. This particularly applies to women; chivalry doesn’t have to be dead, even in a mosh.

2. Oh, another thing for the guys, don’t take off that shirt. I, too, am drenched in sweat. However, I prefer the illusion that it is my sweat, as opposed to yours. No one wants to see your pasty skin and elusive vestigial nipple. Oh, and when you’re pounding your fist in the air, your stinky armpit hair is taking out the eyes of smaller folk (see Point 1 above).

3. Ladies, feel free to trade on those viciously fine looks of yours to get to a good spot. But, no means no. If a guy doesn’t let you past, don’t get shitty on principle.

4. Anyone with dreadlocks: windmilling your head while jumping up and down means that you’re raping my face with your hair. Stop it, or I pull them out.

Lastly: yes, I know I’m tall. Really tall. I’m quite possibly tall enough to crush Tokyo with my ubermensch Godzilla strides. But right now, I’m slouching. When you complain that I pushed in front of you and I know that you’re lying, I may decide to take my own brand of mild-mannered, passive-aggressive vengeance. I know you are lying because I haven’t moved for the last half an hour: you chose to stand behind me, and that’s your own damn fault. So, I can always stand up straight, and then you really won’t be able to see a thing. Take responsibility for your own bad decisions.

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