Last night’s White Lies gig was in some ways a fabulous show in my favourite Edinburgh venue. I can’t say enough how great the security staff were – I turned up at the door at 8:30 pm and asked one of the bouncers by the door if there were any tickets left at the box office, on the off chance. It was a free gig, so I wasn’t holding my breath. He said technically no, but asked how many I was after – I said two (one for me and one for the boyfriend), so he looked at the two in his hand someone had just handed over and said “here you go”.
The tix were one for two people, so he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong – but from the experience I’ve had with bouncers in the past, this was above and beyond the ordinary. He was actually nice.
I think nice is underrated. People really should make an effort to at least try it sometimes.
The band were great, as always. The boy and I might be considered “groupies”, as we’ve seen WL every time they’ve played in Scotland (including once at T in the Park). We were the most sober people in the room, sipping pints of water all night and getting mocking looks from the bar staff all night.
I was sent off to the coat room queue so the boy could go to the loo (must have been all that water, I said). I made random chitchat with the guys in front of me, as you do when waiting in a bloody long queue – and can I just point out I was at the very end of the queue at this point, there was no one behind me. A few minutes later, my boy came to join me, and he asked the bloke in front whether he minded if he (my boy) climbed over the barrier – random bloke said no, of course he didn’t mind.
As soon as he’d joined me, some wee guy starts mouthing off about my boy jumping the queue. We tried to explain he was only coming to join me, he didn’t even have a coat checked, but the guy just wouldn’t let it lie. Starts picking a fight, which was stupid as fuck in his case as he was about a foot shorter than my boy and a podgy little rat. Wanted to “take this outside” (take what outside? Even his friends were telling him he was being a dick).
Now on a normal night, we would just shake it off – some little turd mouthing off is nothing really, especially some little turd who even I could take down. But we’d just heard earlier that night a guy we’d partied with on Mull had died – the victim of a totally random attack outside a pub on the island. Apparently some guys set on him and kicked the crap out of him, and he died at home not long after. One of my best friends knew him very well, and I can’t even imagine how she’s going to feel when she finds out.
Scum. Bloody scum.
On our way out the door I grabbed a bouncer – a huge guy with a skinhead and tattoos up and down his arms – and let him know the situation. Not to get the wee guy in trouble or anything, but to keep us right in case something did kick off. The bouncer was great – he walked us down the stairs to the exit, then escorted us to the traffic lights to get a taxi at the rank across the street. Even after we’d crossed, he walked up and down that stretch of pavement until he saw us get into a cab.
I’ve heard all sorts of nasty stories about dodgy security staff, and I’ve had friends at the wrong end of it as well (one down to mistaken identity). This has restored my belief there are some good, decent people in the world.
Like I said, nice is underrated.
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