This is about a Beenie Man concert

As life would have it, I very randomly got the opportunity to see reggae big-wigs Beenie Man and Mr. Vegas. A friend texted me Thursday asking if I wanted to go on Friday night. I already had plans that involved me doing basically what I do every other week, go to the same bar, go see the same people, so I initially said no. Three seconds later I realized what a dummy I was for turning down a new adventure so I texted back saying “NEVER MIND YES I WILL GO.” Little did I know all that was in store for me was being partially deaf for 24 hours, but that’s the beauty of life, isn’t it?

I’m gonna go ahead and spoiler alert this post and say right off the bat that the “concert” was kind of a huge bust. I still had a great time, for maybe the first 3 hours of being there, but it was more exhausting than anything and I don’t even feel like writing about it because I hate to dwell on things I’m not excited about.

Let’s start off with the positives:
-Great crew that I went with. We were all super enthusiastic on the way and so into dancing at the start and middle of the night.
-The crowd was decidedly NOT shitty and douchey. I mean, sure I did see a guy wearing a “#DIRT” baseball cap, but I’m sure he probably thought that was funny on at least one level. With the exception of 2 skanky hos, people were relatively respectful of not trying to scam their way to the front of the stage. The other exceptions were the handful of guys that tried to invade my personal space, but after I gave them my best “STEP THE FUCK OFF, SON” look, they stepped the fuck off.
-Fun music to dance to. For the first 3 hours. Yes, we were there for 3+ hours.
-Luxy Club, the location of the concert, was hilarious and massive. I can’t quite pinpoint what motif the decorator was going for, but there were a bunch of giant dragons, palm trees and sculpted men in harem pants. And that’s just the statues along the walls. Oh, also, it was next to an Ikea.
Sim simma who got the keys to my MALM cabinet?

Now, here are the negatives:
-Mr. Vegas, the opening act, did not go on until 1:45 a.m. That’s 15 minutes before last call and also three hours since the moment we arrived. By that point, I already had all my fun and now was just getting crankier by the minute. At 1:30, I was already convinced that the show wasn’t happening so I not-so gracefully left the concert room and sat on the patio to get away from the blaring speakers. Inside was packed and trying to maneuver and squish past people was probably the closest I’ll ever get to knowing how it feels to be a salmon trying to swim upstream towards the ocean. Or a sperm on the way to the egg. Same thing, right?
-Beenie Man, headlining act, did not go up until 2:50 a.m. That’s 50 minutes AFTER last call and also four hours since we arrived. I couldn’t get back into the room where the concert was happening, and for sure didn’t give a single shit about it, so I stood near the entrance where I could still hear him and also there were a few video screen that showed different angles of the concert. I still technically haven’t  “seen” Beenie Man in concert, but from what I did see, it was SO NOT WORTH IT. He barely sang along with his songs, he just played maybe 2 minutes of each song and yelled over it a bunch and then moved on to the next song.
-The grosso dudes that would put their hands on your hips from behind and just start grinding up on you. Some might say, “But it’s sort of flattering they think you hot and wanna dance with you.” To that I say, fuck you NO. There’s no way they know what the fuck I look like since they’re coming at me from behind. Those nasties are just looking for a butt to push their boners on and let me tell you, IT’S NOT GONNA BE MY BUTT. My butt is reserved for those I know and trust AND MY OWN FARTS.
-The number of airhorns and DJ scratches throughout the night.
-The girl who barfed next to me on the patio who just continued to sit there after she barfed. She had a friend there holding her hair back, so that was nice for her. Not so much for me.
Not pictured: The barf.
Here are some amusing things I took note of:
-Don’t wear a white bra under a black dress and think you’re gonna get away with it, ladies. HINT: Black light is gonna rat you out so hard and so fast.
-There was one woman wearing an air cast. Clearly she was VERY committed to seeing Beenie Man. Also she was the lady wearing the white bra that glowed under her black dress.
-Dudes take selfies. At least the dudes that go to Luxy Club do.
-The variety of people in attendance that night was way more varied and diverse than you’d probably think. Of course there were the club rats, but there were also older ladies and gentlemen, wanting to get their Caribana celebrashe on. There was one lady wearing a gold sequin dress with gold sequin shoes that I was tempted to knock over just to steal everything she was wearing because I loved it so much, but I didn’t because I’m not a crazy asshole.
Point of this story is, Beenie Man, you fucking suck. Dudes, don’t dance up on a lady and automatically assume she’s gonna be into it. Ladies, keep twerking it. Everybody, just say yes to new things. Sometimes you’re gonna have the best time ever and sometimes you’re gonna go to a shitty Beenie Man concert. The fun is discovering which it’s gonna be!
While this may not have been the crazy fun experience I would’ve hoped it to be, I don’t regret going at all.   At the very least, I walk away with whatever street cred is given to those who go to reggae concerts. That’s something, right?
Anyway, excuse me, I have to go make a hat that says #DIRT on it.

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