While standing in line to enter the theater, a man told me he attended a Styx concert in the 1970s. Inside the building, a woman explained this marked her 15th Styx concert. For most of the audience, their youth had sailed away long ago.
A woman in the front row with dangling gray hair practically danced during the entire show. We sat in the 20th row in a quiet section with few renegades. Then an older couple in front of us decided to periodically stand to the music. She swung her hips, tapping him on the rear while he mechanically pumped his fist as if mimicking Mr. Roboto. Two seats to their right, a man wearing a sport coat and a Bluetooth phone earpiece looked at the couple as if they were fooling themselves. Another man a few seats away was too busy to notice. He was checking football scores on his phone.
When the couple stood, they blocked most of my view of the band, but I didn’t complain. Standing at rock concerts is as ubiquitous as holding lighters (or now turning on cell phone lights). I sat as one of the youngest in the audience. Whining about two people standing would have transformed me into a grumpy old man who insists everyone meticulously follow the rules.
The couple was enjoying the best of times until someone somewhere in the darkness behind us shouted toward the couple, telling them to stop standing. The woman turned her head toward the culprit with a face of disgust. The next time she and her man stood up, it was to leave. And clapping ensued behind us, cheering their departure. The man sporting the Bluetooth earpiece smiled and I snickered.
After the concert, I saw the couple. I figured someone showed them the way to a friendlier environment. If only fans who rocked in paradise years ago had a crystal ball to view the changing dynamics of a concert some four decades later
