Stop Buying Seats At Outdoor Concerts


Why do people buy seats at outdoor concerts?

Seriously, why?

Before you start, I’m not talking about arenas or stadiums or anywhere it’s the only choice. I’m talking about amphitheater-type venues that have a lawn, a pit and some seats in between.

You know, the baseball field looking ones. Band plays at home plate, seats in the infield, and lawn in the outfield.


But why are seats even available? Who’s buying them? Who even thinks about it?

You have two choices and two choices only.

Option one.

The Pit

The pit sells itself, everyone gets it.

You’re right by the music, get sweated on by the band, maybe catch a pick or take a photo proving to your friends you saw everything, we get it.

The downside is, unless Daddy’s paying, you have to save up for a bit and probably tell your significant other they won’t be receiving a Christmas present…

Option two.

The Lawn

Here’s where glory is found.

Thousands of dudes in cut-off, bright yellow construction shirts (cleanly sliced at the nipple), girls in daisy dukes and never before worn boots, that one family with a blanket and kids trying make a memory, I mean it’s just beautiful chaos.

There’s guys slinging beers out of buckets (Bud Light Lime, anyone?), grass stains on every ass, you’ve lost your friends (“I swore we were behind that pole!”), but it doesn’t matter because somewhere in your general vicinity a band is playing some song.

You can’t hear it, you haven’t heard a thing since the parking lot Fireball, but it doesn’t matter because at the core of this madness is pure, raging joy.

But people in the middle, what are you doing?

Sitting? You bought a seat, I assume you use it? Do you get up and walk to a stand for every drink? Or even worse, are you sober? The horror…

Congrats, you played yourself.

You paid for a seat significantly more expensive than the lawn with a significantly worse view than the pit. Your photos will still be indecipherable, you’ll still only hear the annoying lady’s voice behind you in the video, and you will have no fun stories, because the band, nor the drunk girls who don’t like your hat, are spitting on you.

You’re stuck in the neverland of compromise and you know it, but you can’t do a damn thing about it, it’s too late.

To those thinking about buying seats, I give one piece of advice.


Do the damn thing. Either buy the pit seats and have a moment with the band or buy lawn seats and cut loose.

Free yourself from the confines of assigned seating.

Because freedom is what a real American wants, and dammit you’re a real American.

I rest my case.

A beer bottle on a dock



A beer bottle on a dock