This past weekend*, Mrs. Pincus and I were, once again, basking in the beautiful weather and beautiful sounds of the Xponential Music Fest, an annual three-day outdoor event on the Camden, New Jersey waterfront, just across the Delaware River from Philadelphia. The festival is put on by my favorite radio station (and current employer of my son) WXPN-FM. My family has always loved live music and we are avid concert-goers. This festival is a massive logistical undertaking, yet — year after year (and there have been 26 of 'em so far) — it appears to be effortless.
In recent years, there has been a partnership with the mighty Live Nation concert promoter to cap a couple of nights off with a major act that happens to be playing at the giant venue next door to the natural amphitheater where the festival is held. At around 6:30 in the evening, after a full day of performances, those with the proper admission ticket package can pack up all of their stuff and head over to the BB&T Pavilion (or whatever it's called this week). Past years have featured indie darlings Wilco, the Godfather of Quirk David Bryne and even the venerable Bob Dylan. This year's feature was a double bill of Elvis Costello and Blondie.
As the sun set over Philadelphia, my wife and I, along with a gazillion other faithful XPN listeners made our way over to the BB&T Pavilion for the last two sets of the evening. Through some creative methods that I won't elaborate upon at this time, Mrs P and I usually spend our time at the BB&T Pavilion on the "River Deck," a special VIP section provided by show sponsors Subaru. The River Deck offers a panoramic view of the entire venue on one side and spectacular sight lines of the skyline of The City of Brotherly Love on the other. Subaru puts out a spread of snack foods, including homemade potato chips and Philly staple soft pretzels. After Blondie's set, which played out like a greatest hits performance, we were approached by a Subaru representative and, as fans of the Grateful Dead say, we were "miracled." He handed us four tickets for a reserved box waaaay down near the stage. XPN Festival passes include admission to the BB&T Pavilion, however your "seat" is actually whatever size patch of grass your butt occupies on the sloped lawn behind the actual seating area. We happily took the tickets and started down the steep walkway towards our new seats. At first we offered the tickets to folks we knew (including our son and his friends), however all attempts were graciously declined. It seemed that everyone was comfortable stretching out on the lawn in the balmy twilight that now enveloped the South Jersey area. With the help of a young usher, we located our seats... two of which were currently occupied by a woman who, by the looks of her immediate surroundings, was working on her fifth or sixth beer. She explained in a roundabout, slurred and somewhat incoherent manner, that her friends had tickets in a different section and would be joining her. We smiled and said we only need two seats, even though we had four tickets. We slid past her and nabbed the last two seats at the end of the sequestered row. The woman got visibly annoyed when my wife put her bottle of water in the cup holder at the end of the communal armrest. Mrs. P pointed out that there was another cup holder that could be used, but the woman wasn't happy about having to stow her beverage on her right.
When the show began with the opening drum beat of "Pump It Up," our inebriated seatmate leaped to her feet, swaying her hips in a too-wide arc and splaying her arms out of her personal space. In the dark, we watched her fumble around in the purse that was swinging from her wrist, finally extracting a cellphone to snap a series of out-of-focus pictures and record some blurry video that she would never ever watch. For the entire 70 minute set, Elvis Costello had an audience of one — and she was trying to remain upright nearby Seat 6 in Reserved Box 220. This woman next to us was the only one in attendance. She had to have been, as she threw herself from side to side, spread her arms wide in pseudo-crucifixion and jumped up and down, not always making a three-point landing. Her behavior was quite annoying — to us, to the couple in front of us, even to the friends that finally arrived from their other assigned seats. At the end of the encore, with the entire house on its collective feet, our concert neighbor jumped and screamed and took pictures of the venue's ceiling. It took several polite "excuse me"s to get the attention of this woman before we were granted access to the aisle to exit... and even then she was not happy about it.
We had a good time. The concert was great. Someone, however, had a better time at the expense of everyone else.
* Note: this post was written at the end of July 2019.
* Note: this post was written at the end of July 2019.
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