So, I feel like I should talk about the fact that I spent my Saturday night at Backstreet Boys concert. First of all, I should put a disclaimer on this: I did not (I repeat, DID NOT) actually purchase tickets to the show. My grandparents have season tickets and the tickets weren’t being used, so I dragged Michael along to witness four middle-aged guys dance in glitter infested beaters. The thing is, I used to be obsessed with BSB back when they actually were a big deal; but having expanded my musical horizons since age 12, I found that the audience was much more entertaining than the boys themselves.
The funny thing about the Fraze is that it attracts a pretty conservative crowd. Older, upper middle class couples are typically season seat holders, and instead of getting rid of the tickets to shows they don’t want, many couples opt to just go to every show. Whatever the case may be, the Fraze manages to attract a fairly entertaining population.
~How funny is it to see 50 year old wives dragging their husbands (typically dressed in khakis, boat shoes and your choice of Hawaiian printed button down) to a boy band show.
~The Backstreet Boys makes for a perfect opportunity for mother-daughter bonding experience, especially when you’re from the fabulous town of West Carrolton and you and your daughter are both wearing low cut lace shirts. Two extra points go out if you repeatedly (and very proudly) declare that your daughter is a “liquor whore.”
~What’s a better way to spend your middle-aged “girls night out” than at a boy band show? Gal pals of all ages apparently flock to the show for a night of dancing and a few too many plastic cups of wine. Throw in a denim vest, or a pair of orange heels to match your classy tank, and you’ve got yourself a wild night out.
~At every concert, you’ll find the girls that won’t let go. The girls that won’t let go to the days when they were 12 and waited outside the tour busses with posters covered in glitter that read, “I love Brian,” and “Nick Carter, my love is all I have to give.” These are the ones that spent all day making mix CDs to listen to on the ten minute drive to the Fraze, and have spent all week perfecting their “I Love BSB” tee that has ties down the side. If you’re old enough to attend a university, you shouldn’t be allowed to wear homemade glitter tees sporting the name of your favorite teenage heartthrob.
~Let’s not forget about those socially awkward girls wearing mom shorts. You know the ones I’m talking about; the ones who bring a book to a concert, and have their hair in a long braided pony tail. Secretly, I think they’re the wild ones who swing that braid around like they’re on Girls Gone Wild. Unfortunately, it’s hard to mock and imitate their style of dance because I can’t for the life of me figure out how to get OFF the beat of the music. Some girls just dance to their own internal rhythm…God bless ’em.
~A concert wouldn’t be a concert without the whores. The Fraze is located in Kettering, Ohio, a quaint suburban town much like the ones that surround it. It is NOT New York City, Chicago, or hell, even Columbus. D-A-Y-T-O-N. In other words, your booty shorts revealing every cottage cheese dimple of cellulite and your silver “come fuck me” heels are not welcome here. Put on your flip flops and your jeans and call it a day. And a personal note goes out to the girl in bright purple leggings, a tank and a zebra sweater: Really? I mean, really? You look like you’re going to aerobics. And girls, let’s face it. Who are you going to impress at a BSB concert? 90% of guys at the show aren’t there voluntarily, they’ve been forced by their girlfriends or wives (see above descriptions), and the remaining 10% are more interested in Nick’s ass than yours. Get over yourselves, and take your skank ass to the Yellow Rose. After two glasses of wine, I may or may not have screamed, “SIT DOWN WHORES!”
Anyway, all that being said, the show wasn’t actually that bad. The boys played plenty of classics, and I can’t believe I remember all the words to these songs. But, overall…. Backstreet boys < People watching.
i can’t spell it out for you.