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Stuck In Normal
by Chris Bertolet - bertolet@earthlink.net

_Scenario One_: Four friends travel hundreds of miles through bad weather to see one of their favorite bands at the intimate Sweetwater in Marin County. They throw down an early dinner and stake out spaces in front of the stage three hours before show time. When the music finally starts, a late-arriving woman presses to the front, jostling with her considerable ass, and starts to dance on one of the friend's toes. When politely asked to move, the woman accosts the entire group ("You think you're better than me? Fuck you!") and fetches her posse in an effort to intimidate them.

_Scenario Two_: Another group of friends empties out of the Cow Palace after a show on a chilly November night in San Francisco. Though uplifted mightily by the music, they're brought crashing down by the sight of a strung out tour-head attempting to procure a sack of weed- by offering his helpless Labrador puppy in trade.

_Scenario Three_: A man and his wife fly to Seattle and trek across the mountains to see a pair of shows at the scenic Gorge. Outside their tent after the first show, a drum circle thumps on into the night. When 7:00 a.m. rolls around and the sun cracks the horizon, the man's wife asks kindly if the Circle of Death could cease or move so she could get an hour's sleep. Wading in a sea of their own garbage, the morphine-addled drummers ridicule her ("We don't care how much money you have, maaaan...") and threaten to urinate on her tent. A half hour later, one of the peaceful drummers drops his female companion with a right cross to the jaw.

These aren't stories I've made up. They aren't anecdotes I've collected from others. These are things that have happened to me.

***

Sorry to harsh your wookie buzz, but it's time to stop kidding ourselves- hippie kindness is a myth. It's as much a myth as hippie non-conformity (patchwork and piercings and cords, oh my!) and hippie environmentalism (dig my phatty Microbus as it spews black smoke!). Wake up and smell the patchouli oil, friends- we're knee deep in assholes.

Yes, acts of hippie kindness exist. I see them now and then- sometimes even in wondrous, honey-gushing torrents, like last summer's High Sierra Music Festival. But the notion of kindness as some universal hippie code, or as a part of some commonly accepted hippie ethos, is simple fantasy. In fact, if a curious Martian landed in the middle of a jam band show to observe human behavior, he'd probably witness more instances of rudeness (and, certainly, drug abuse) than he would acts of kindness. And I know that if I were that Martian, I'd be tempted to turn the lot of us into a smoking crater of plasma.

Admit it, Earthlings. It's true.

Of course, we all like to think we're Kind- especially when the term is thrown around with as much careless abandon as it is in the jam band scene. In these parts, everyone's a "Kind Brother" or a "Kind Sister." Who wants to be The Other Guy? And to be fair, I’d bet that most of you out there are kind when you're out in the real world. You probably clean up your messes. You probably don't shove strangers aside for a better spot on the subway. You probably don't assault women, even when they've stolen your crack.

But unless I miss my guess, most of you reading this column have left trash strewn across an arena parking lot, despite what that bumper sticker says about your regard for your Mother. Once or twice, most of you have probably pushed your way past dancing folk or invaded someone's space for a better view at a show. Most of you who are anatomically able - and maybe even some of you who aren't - have probably peed in a sink.

The stats say that most of you have been The Other Guy. There are just too many Other Guys to believe otherwise.

Maybe you have an excuse. Maybe you were tripping your socks off. Maybe Dark Star re-wired your brain, or maybe you just had to get close enough so Trey could hear your inner tiger roar. Guess what? I don't care. Because to be honest, kind wookie, I'm sick of your shit, and I'm tired of your excuses.

***

What is it about live music that brings out the worst in some people? What is it about a concert that impedes their respect for the personal space of others? What is it about a groove that paralyzes their brains' moral center, and makes them more deserving of that groove than the rest of us?

A few years ago, as a seasoned jam band Jedi, I decided to take up arms and mobilize against the Dark Side. I organized Inside Out, a loose group of concerned Phish fans, to drive heroin, crack and other addictive drugs off the lots on summer tour by confronting pushers. Response was rabid. It turned out that a bunch of netizens shared my disdain for the kind of parasite that would sell smack to wayward kids, and wanted in. But it also turned out that a lot of people just don't want cops around, whether they're wearing a badge or a tie-dye. Well, the last thing I've ever wanted to be is a cop. So I backed down.

We like our lives like we like our music- free. Rules, boundaries and moral codes make us cringe, especially when they stand at odds with what we Damn Well Want To Do. In political speak, we're social libertarians- we prefer that the presence of government and authority be minimal, and rightly so, in my humble opinion.

But there's a catch. We still want to be free from the Other Guy.

***

In my book, there's one and only one rule of behavior that's worth heeding- the Golden Rule. It's one-stop ethical shopping, because if we truly heed it, we need no others. Nearly every faith, from Roman Catholic to Hindu to Pagan, has a version of this simple law:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

It's a rule of human potential. It suggests an ideal: that if every man treats his fellow man as he'd care to be treated, the outcome of our interactions with one another will be unfailingly positive.

Some people like to attach a metaphysical corollary to the Golden Rule. I'm talking, of course, about karma. Essentially, karma is the notion that some power of enforcement exists, beyond this plain, to reward or punish people for how they treat others. I like the concept of karma; it soothes me to know that the gutless turd who stole my car stereo might come back as a garden slug in the next life. Unfortunately, however, there's nothing certain about karma, apart from the fact that it's certainly not instant.

Worse yet, there's another rule; not a rule of human potential, but a rule of regrettable human nature. It's called the Prisoner's Dilemma, and it's immutable.

Forgive me if I step on David Steinberg, but the essence of the Prisoner’s Dilemma is mathematical. It postulates a "zero-sum game," which is not unlike the environment of a crowded concert hall (i.e., for every person who crams into the front row, one person must move back). Essentially, the Prisoner's Dilemma states that there exists an outcome that is better to the individual than the equally shared group outcome (a better seat, a quicker exodus from the lot, etc.). To attain that outcome, however, he (The Other Guy) must screw the other players in the game, ensuring them a worse outcome than his own. And therein lies the dilemma: in a world of Other Guys, to screw or not to screw?

Whatever you choose, know this: you can't simultaneously pledge allegiance to the Golden Rule and the Prisoner's Dilemma. In other words, you can't be a practicing social libertarian and a practicing asshole at the same time.

You can't leave stray bottles to be smashed beneath car tires and call yourself kind, because you're not. You can't demean someone for her appearance and call yourself kind, because you're not. You can't usurp the physical space of a devoted fan who sacrificed hours of fun in the parking lot and call yourself kind, because you're not. And I won't let you.

Do I think I'm better than you are? I might ask you the same thing. Isn't that what you're implying when you step in front of me, then push backward?

Fact is, "friend," we can all be Golden. Our ideal of social libertarianism is attainable. But it unravels like a cheap sweater when you don't respect me. From now on, I will ask that you do, and when you don't, I will demand it. I hope you'd do the same.

We owe each other that much.