It’s not them, it’s you

It’s not them, it’s you

Last night I went to see Gord Downie play at the Wildhorse Saloon, a big ol’ tent that springs up every Stampede.  About 10 minutes in 2 very large men dressed as cowboys decided they didn’t like each other. Strangers and girlfriends jumped in to keep the two parties back as these mental midgets screamed at each other, fingers flying in both directions. Eventually Dumb Cowboy #1 guy got bored and allowed himself to be physically restrained by his 90lb girlfriend and left

The whole time this was happening, the bouncer in front of us was watching the band. Another bouncer was flirting with a cowgirl.  It wasn’t until after the whole thing had resolved itself and Dumb Cowboy #1 had left that Flirty McBouncer came flying from his perch, bulldogging his way through the crowd to take charge of the situation, unaware of what he was even running toward. The people left in his wake began picking themselves up and looking for their hats, wondering why some big dude in a yellow shirt just shoved them out of the way.

Then I heard someone behind me say, “Why do people turn into such assholes during Stampede?” referring to the two chest thumping wastes of skin.  But they’re not the problem; the rest of us are the problem. 

All night long we were surrounded by people that generally don’t binge drink for ten days straight. Normal folks with normal lives who are just out for Stampede to have a good time. People getting into the spirit of the thing, drinking to get annihilated, because, “hey, it’s Stampede!!”  As we watched the band people were constantly pushing through the crowd to get closer to the stage. Fratboys headbanging to the music, the brims of their cowboy hats rhythmically bobbing in and out of peoples faces. Little hipster dudes leaning over people to scream something at their buddies, O&G guys rocking out with a full solo cup held high over the crowd, spraying everyone in a 3 foot radius. Drunk guys flirting with other drunk guys girlfriends. Drunk girlfriends flirting right back.

Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a concert, that’s what happens. I get that. Hell, I’ve been all of those guys in a single night. Stampede, however, seems to bring it up a notch though, and it’s a petri dish for the asshole culture.

Assholes don’t turn into assholes because they’ve had too many drinks. They’ re just assholes. It’s what they do. The booze just cuts back on the little bit of self restraint they have to not be assholes all the time. The rest of us acting like idiots? That’s the catalyst. It’s the little hipster dude who generally sits around ironically named dive bars drinking PBR, or whatever it is this week, who starts pushing his weight around because a belly full of Budweiser and a pair of  Wranglers gives him license to do so. It’s the soccer dad who’s happily staggering into people because the last time he drink this much was new years eve. 3 years ago. Its not long before the asshole, who might not even be looking for a fight, but can’t seem to avoid them, slides back two spaces on the evolutionary chart and does what he does best. Acts like an asshole.  

There's a few days of Stampede left, and it should be a good time, but there will be a few more fights, more arguments, more shoving. But the next time you think to yourself “Why is that guy such an asshole” take a look around and see who’s foot you might be standing on.