On The Run (With Beyoncé…Not the Circus)

10 Jul

So last week, I went to Beyoncé and Jay Z’s concert.


Yes, it was spiritual.

No, I have yet to recover.

Yes, I am dropping out of school and running away to follow their tour.

No, I didn’t think about housing… I assumed I could live with the Carters.

No, I don’t want to live off of Ramen noodles…

No, I don’t like sleeping on hay…

Yes, I will be home for dinner, Mom.

If the lifestyle of a Beyoncé/Jay Z mobile groupie is anything like running away with the circus, then I guess I will settle for the role of “dedicated, borderline insane” fan. Settling is hard.

Seriously, though. The concert was incredible. Who knew a person could scream for three hours straight and not experience vocal loss? (And I don’t mean “sorry, I can’t give this presentation today because I caught ‘The Laryngitis’ – I mean having your vocal chords literally fall out of your mouth and onto the ground, only to be stepped on by a large man wearing cleats. That is how much I screamed.)

As passionate as I was about the concert, and as much as I love Beyoncé, there were some *quirks* about the event that raised several questions in my noggin. (The best place to raise questions. Safe streets, great school system.)

First question: Fellow ladies – how is it that you ALL managed to fit in a shopping trip to Wet Seal today? Were they having a sale on neon crop tops that I didn’t hear about? I’d appreciate a head’s up the next time we collectively decide to showcase our underboobs.

Second question: Twelve-year-old girl with the jean shorts – why is it that I can see both of your butt cheeks? Did you get into a fight with a Liger on the way over here that caused you to lose half of your pants? Did you get too close to a kiln at pottery camp today and accidentally melt off the majority of your lower half’s apparel? If so, may I suggest selling your pottery creations to save up for a nice pair of sensible slacks? May I also suggest referring to this guide on ceramic safety?

Third question: 95-year-old man in the corner – why are you here, sir? You look confused. Can I escort you to the Simon and Garfunkel spectacular down the street?


Fourth question: No, I was not aware that “I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich” translated to “I would LOVE a charred turkey burger with half a bun, please” in the language of disgruntled adolescent employees. I’ll have to brush up on that language the next time I decide I want to eat something edible for dinner.

Fifth question: Why am I incapable of maintaining dance moves that align with the beat of the song? Do I think I’m at a square dance or a polka party? THIS IS A HIP HOP CONCERT, YOU FOOL. Move your hips and try not to look like you’re holding a giant floatation device between your knees.

Sixth question: Mom…when did you take dance lessons?

granny dance

Seventh question: Beyoncé – how come when you prance around in assless chaps, everybody loves it, and yet that ONE time I wore assless chaps to a job interview I was chASStised?

Eighth question: Jay Z – why are you here? Are you even famous?

Ninth question: To the woman in the exit mob that just pushed me and then said, “Why are you pushing me?” in a nasally, aggressive tone – I’m not a supporter of violence, but how would you like a Jewfro to the face?

Tenth question: To the drunk man running around without pants yelling, “WHERE IS CHIPOTLE???” – down the street, on the left. No further questions.

Being a Beyoncé fan takes dedication, endurance, patience, a willingness to put yourself through some horrible situations, and the ability to show a little underboob.

The circus ain’t got nothin’ on you, Bey.


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