It was about time I found a parking spot; I was getting tired of driving around in circles just to find a spot. We had even passed a shady figure standing alone behind the row of buildings, the way he was standing didn't suggest he was lost and needed help. He was just standing there in a up to no good type of way. I didn't want to parallel park, even though that's why I was driving, apparently mom thought I could parallel park well. We drove into the parking structure to meet a man standing in the cold operating the gate.We were charged five dollars to get in, but it beats parallel parking.
My red HHR came to a stop, the engines pur faded away. Three of my doors clicked twice, once to open, once to close. We then made our way towards our destination.The building was on a corner of an intersection, its neon lights gleaming “Crofoot” to any person glancing its way. My drum teacher had told me about the building, it was divided into four venues. Each venue allowed for four consecutive events to happen at one time.
“Do you have the tickets?” I asked my mom.
“Yes, right here” she said, reaching into her purse. The tickets were to one of the four events that happened to be this day; exactly three for me, my friend, and my mom. The building grew larger as we approached it, its walls shaking to the sound of music. The building greeted us with a sign saying “Private party” with an arrow pointing to a door. With the knowledge that we had not planned on going to a private party, we followed the buildings sounds towards the loudest section. This section happily greeted us with posters of “Jingle Ballz”. My drum teachers band name was Ballz Deluxe, he didn't have a say on the name the time the name was chosen. But to match the 2013 Christmas spirit, they hosted an event under the name Jingle Ballz. The metal door squeaked as I pushed open the door, my friend and mom following behind me. On the other side of the door were a couple of men wearing Ballz Employee T-Shirts.
“May I see your tickets?” One asked, my mom responding by handing over the three tickets.
“Will you be drinking tonight?” He asked as he ripped of the end of the ticket.
“No just pop.” My mom answered, me and my friend were quite obviously under the legal drinking age, and this was a respectable venue, a minor couldn't get alcohol even if he or she wanted to. The music was pushing against my body, it reminded my of every other concert I've been to, whether big or small, the volume was the same. I followed my mom through an open doorway into the actual room where the stage was, speakers suspended above the stage like golden idols, flying heavenly above the stage. Beneath the speakers laid the useless items, napkins, cups, and straws laying worthlessly on the ground.The crowd was a pretty good turn out, it was difficult to find sections of floor between their bodies. Then above these people was a band, but it was not the band I had come to see, it was just an introductory band. We made our way through the crowd, some would dance, some would move a little bit, and some would just stand completely still. I had forgotten Justin had mentioned a drunk Santa that was intentionally invited to the concert. The Santa was going around talking to people and generally getting people in a good mood for the concert, just to top of the irony by holding a bottle the whole time. By the Santa were some very short elfs that would follow him around. I was surprised, I would've thought these people would have been offended to be asked to play elfs at the concert, but these people were content with who they are. As we were walking through, I began to notice a pattern to the crowd. They would all stand in pods separated from each other, refusing to interact with other pods. There was a certain pod that stood at the foot of the stage, their size making it obvious they did not know each other. These people would dance around to the music as if they didn't care about the other pods and what they thought, probably being helped by alcohol. There was a buffer between this pod and the others, a dead zone where you should dare not pass. It had reminded me of school, how you walk into the building and students separate themselves from each other. You walk into the building and here is this group of friends with a big dead-zone between them and the next group of friends. There is a crowd of people who practically wear the exact same clothing, thinking it will make them fit in. There is a crowd of sports Jocks, a crowd of musicians, the goths, and many more. But are they really that different? We all go to the same school, we live on the same earth, and we all face very similar problems. The people at the concert all are going to the same concert. Yet, we all still discriminate against one another. Like how I chose to pay to not parallel park, or how we found where the band was by collecting evidence then discriminating where the event was at. Like how the speakers sit heavenly above the stage, yet other objects sit uselessly on the floor. We assume Santa to be a figure of innocence, so putting a beer bottle in his hand makes it an irony we find funny. But we all still have to make decisions, if I had chosen to parallel park, I may have run into a car; which is certainly more expensive than paying for parking. The discrimination will always happen, it's necessary, but why should we ignore others? Each person does have a right to be who they are, despite whether you agree with them or not. People have told me things change after high school, but this looks exactly like high school to me. The next couple of hours went past relatively quickly, my teachers band had played and we were leaving. The singer of the band had a few too many drinks and had actually gotten in a fight with other drunk concert-goers; even more reason people kept the dead zone between the front and back. Santa had decided to make a new appearance and drag people into the dead-zone, but it’ll take a lot more than ironic humor to bring the people forward. On my way out, I looked at a lonely open parallel parking spot, the spot more than big enough to fit my HHR. I had almost felt sad for it, always being a last resort, never having the liberty to equally be able to greet any person that may need to park. My spot however was glad to see me go, it was excited to see the next car that may park in it. Who will park in it tomorrow? Possibly a band member, a viewer, or an employee, but whoever it was, he or she certainly wasn't parallel parking.