in 1990 or 91, i went to a dead show at the fabulous forum in LA.
i'd been to several shows before, knew what i was getting into, and despite arriving just in time on friday to get to our seats for the night's show, we did need to line up outside the forum for some time.
as the show was about to start, most folks were already completely intoxicated - via music or drugs or happiness or whatever - but the typical joy of these shows had completely permeated out into the fab forum parking lot and the surrounding 4 or 5 city blocks, in anticipation of the long, strange weekend it was sure to be, in the depths of that northern tip of south central.
happily standing in line, there were some several thousand people on one side of me, behind us in line, and another several thousand ahead of us, with yet another several thousand wandering the surrounding parking lots, essentially indifferent to the various basic rules of civilization at that moment.
and they were all smiles, smiles, smiles - every damned face you saw was smiling. even people who were nervous or confused, were doing so positively - giving themselves up to the grand design, instead of inflicting friction with needless questions and accusations.
except 1 dude. 1 dude was not smiling. he was a security bloke charged with keeping the road clear, which cut through the parking lot and into the underbelly of the forum. right next to where the lines were to get into the show.
and because there were thousands of heads swarmed around him just passing by to get from A to B, and indifferent to the fact that a road even existed there (there were no cars, no auto traffic at all), or that it was somehow important not to step between those yellow lines that defined the road - he was facing a constant uphill battle of trying to get people to see what they were doing wrong, by not paying attention and stepping right into the street.
"Excuse me sir! you need to stand clear of the road here!", he would shout, despite the fact the sir he was asking to move was already moving, and was about to leave the road area anyway.
but that comment would gain the attention of an otherwise clueless wanderer. and that made them stop, turn to the security guard, and engage them in a conversation, "Hello!".
"It's okay, Sir! You just need to step away from that road there you are standing on", the guard would say, not realising the soon-to-be larger problem he'd just opened himself up for.
"Hi! It's a great Friday Night huh?", said the wanderer, genuinely happy this security guard had expressed some concern for the man's well-being. but rather than walk up to the security guard, he stayed right where he was when the security guard asked him to move, "Do you get to see the shows? That's got to rock, man! I'd love your job".
"Okay, thanks Sir, but I need you to move".
well the two groups of several thousand heads on either side of us all began to focus more and more on the authoritative shouts of the security guard, with delight and wonder. who was shouting instructions? at a dead show? "hehe", we all thought.
well it wasn't long before the hoards united, and cued into the interaction, playing on every opportunity possible to make their point, "Excuse me sir! your hat is sideways!", shouted one girl next to me.
30 or 40 more proactive types started positoning themselves at various intervals along the road, carefully not stepping into it, but would take turns walking over the yellow line and asking the guard if that too, was a spot they shouldn't stand on.
and after about the 20th time that question was asked the guard began to show some signs of real frustration.
so one girl ran up to him and hugged him and thanked him for his dilligence. another guy walked past and handed the guard a bottle of soap water for blowing bubbles and told him, "be careful".
and before long everyone passing thru the area began feeding off the more stationary folks as they passed by, and cheered the guard in passing as a result, "Woohoo! You rock man!", most of which were stopping in the very road the poor chap was triyng to keep clear.
another 20 or so mintues of this began to wear down the psyche of the guard who was still trying to figure out how so many people could suddenly work together to achieve such an incredible amount of teamwork.
i mean, had all these people gotten together to orchestrate this truly bizarre reaction to his simple requests? that question was burning red-hot on the guard's forehead as still more people began offering their hands to shake his, or even hoping for a high-five or something to show how much they loved the guy.
they started leaving things for him, like a beer or a smoke at his feet, and one person even set out a beach chair they had for him, so he could rest when he wanted to.
the more the crowd showed their respect and compassion for him, the more frustrated he got, the louder his voice, the more assertive his demands, the more tension in his voice.
at one point he started laughing, realising he wasn't going to win. as soon as he managed to get one group of 20 people to move off, another 150 wanderers would fill their spot.
the wanderers began patting him on the back as they danced by. this one was real easy for people to do as they walked by, and before long he was being patted on the back by several hundred people.
another 5 minutes of that and he screamed, "Look! No Body Touch Me!". he was more scared than angry, but couldn't be nervous in a life-threatening manner - it was more like the fear one experiences when faced with a religious zealot at their door, having no idea what to expect, no concern for subjecting one's self to the ideology, the requests for money or engagement, and the unpleasant personal rejection that would inevitably have to take place as a result of the caller at their door.
people started singing songs, and leading cheers for him, and after the crowd had managed to get his name straight, many hundreds started talking to him from a great distance, at the top of their lungs, as if they'd known him for years, "Jim! great to see you man! how many hours you on duty for?", "Jim have you seen any miracles around?", "Hey Jim, can you break a twenty?".
Jim walked away. Jim didn't want to do his job the rest of the night. he mumbled something about not needing the money.
however, when Jim was about 500 feet down the road walking away from the scene, removing half of his gear in the process, a group of 4 girls ran after him and convinced him to come back, promising they'd help him keep the road clear.
Jim clearly felt better at that point, his face showed some degree of relief - but he was in for a shock. the girls then ran back to their respective groups and returned with around 100 people. the people started walking in circles around the road area and fed the crowds a buzz of respecting Jim. suddenly the wanderers were greeted with jovial requests to, "Stay clear the road!" clapping along a rythym that matches the repeated phrase, with a few people in various places actually dancing to the racket, as if the show had already begun.
suddenly Jim was doing his job again.
the moral? if you fail to understand the nature of things - you may well make life 100 times worse for yourself, instead playing into the hands of what you're supposed to be opposed to. or perhaps, more precisely, without *mutual* respect, authority is often irrelevant. |
