I hated high school. I hated it so much that I've never once looked back, or felt an ounce of nostalgia for it, and when I sometimes walk the halls to pick my sister up to drive her home, I get nauseous, not reminiscent. They were the worst years of my life. I was awkwardly intelligent and awkwardly clad in boho chic and just basically awkwardly awkward. My Dad was the principal, so everyone knew who I was, who I slept with (and didn't sleep with), and everyone attended the parties we threw. Even the people I hated. Especially the people I hated.
And those tanorexic drunken sluts in jean skirts with fried, dyed hair and red cups permanently glued to their manicured hands made up 99% of the crowd at the Tweeter Center on Saturday night. The parking lot was a disaster area. People kept getting flat tires from driving over broken bottles and busted beer cans. I got beer spilled on me numerous times and a piece of glass lodged in my foot. There were people puking and pissing and shitting and fucking. It was a shitshow. I don't know how else to describe it. The average age was probably 16. And these kids were not buzzed or drunk... they were shitfaced. Passing out, falling over, vomiting, shitfaced drunk. Their eyes rolled back in their heads. Several people got carried off the lawn in stretchers. Girls were foaming at the mouth and falling to the ground with their skirts up around their hips. Did I get that bad when I would come and party at DMB shows when I was 16? Was I just enjoying myself too much to notice? Or has binge drinking become a serious issue? - no doubt in response to the overprotective parenting that disallows any form of alcohol from ever knowingly passing an under-21 year old's lips. They don't have these problems in Europe. Only in America is it normal to pass 10 people puking in a row and think nothing of it.
Anyway. The worst part, for me, is that the anonymity I so cherish in New York was completely forfeited the moment I stepped into the Philadelphia area. "Jess Roy - hi, you don't know me, but I know you, can I use your cell phone? I lost mine." "I remember you from when you were a senior." "Hi! I read your blog!" I forgot how weird it is for everyone to know OF you, but not know you.
The lawn was littered with kids who were sophomores when I was a senior, hooking up with each other, their fake tanned skin stained with beer and sweat, grinding their American Eagle jean skirted asses against boys whose baby faces betrayed their underageness. The girls can tart themselves up to look older - short skirt, lowcut top, lots of makeup. But the boys, they still look like babies, with braces and mop hair and LL Bean backpacks. I forgot how young and immature high school boys are until I saw them groping 16 year old boobs. How could I forget how obsessed teenage boys are with boobs?
The whole time I felt like the college kid who inappropriately shows up to a high school party and everyone whispers with shifty eyes, "What a loser."
"I don't want to be here!" I wanted to scream, "I'm just making sure my little sister doesn't get drunk or date raped or both!" No one would have cared. They were all too wasted.
The concert itself was brilliant. Sadly the best part of Rihanna's set was her costume changes. Being the oldest person there, perhaps I'm going deaf, but I just couldn't hear her. Kanye put on a sick show - he played all my favorite songs, and the special effects completely made the show. Arrogant as he may be, he's an amazing performer. He didn't even have backup dancers. It was just him on stage with dry ice and lights and he kept me captivated the entire time. Except when people would stand in front of us, or pee near us, or flash us their vaginas.It's safe to say that I do not miss high school, and I will not be voluntarily reliving it in Camden ever, ever again.