The Falling Prom Queen, or Don't Do Drugs

Last Friday night The Architect and I were losing it at the Eminem concert. Okay, so I was losing it, and The Architect was sitting sedately with his legs crossed tolerating his wife's peculiar taste in music, but still...

Eminem has wide appeal and I had assumed that there would be people of all ages in the audience. And there were. There were 35,000 people between the ages of 15 and 25, and my husband, and me.

Most of the crowd was beautifully well behaved. The boy next to me - who couldn't have been more than 19 or so - kept asking considerately if he was giving me enough room. The young man in front of me quickly climbed off his seat when I explained he was blocking my view. And the row of girls behind us danced sedately in a row, and collected their litter before they left.

There was just one discordant element. One member of the crowd who stood out, and not in a good way. And she was off her little trolley.

The girl was sitting next to, but not with, the sedate girls behind me. She was, inexplicably, wearing a strapless chiffon prom dress, and (more explicably) braces on her teeth. I didn't see her drink any alcohol, and she seemed sober when she arrived, so I can only assume that she'd taken something before the show. Because as the evening progressed, Prom Queen got more and more out of control, until by the end of the night, she was quite literally on the floor.

Initially, Prom Queen was just chatting loudly to her friend, a Goth who seemed completely disinterested in her. When Eminem came on stage Prom Queen jumped up immediately and began swaying rather vigorously to the music. She raised her hands in the air, closed her eyes dramatically, and moved in a dance reminiscent of 'Swan Lake meets bullet to the chest', if the Swan was very uncoordinated, and the bullet wounded, but did not kill.

Then, when Eminem was about half way through his set, the Prom Queen suffered a decline. Up she would be, flailing around, and then suddenly woops! She'd fall over, right onto the girl beside her.

"Sorry!" she'd say, and jump back on her feet. (She was flying, she was unsteady, but she was unfailingly polite.)

Up would go the Swan hands, and off she'd fire again, moving emotively to the rhythm, braces clanging in the breeze. And then whoosh! Forward she would fall, right on to The Architect and me.

"Sorry!" she'd exclaim sincerely, and climb up again.

This went on and on and on, for songs and songs and songs, until I was tempted to tether the girl to a pole. But no, it got worse. Because shortly thereafer, Prom Queen lost the power of her legs. She'd be dancing away, and then whoa! Down she'd fall right to the floor, where she'd curl in the fetal position for a minute, maybe two. We'd look, we'd wait, we'd wonder whether to call the medicos (all of us but Goth, who just glanced at her in disdain)... and then bam! Up she'd jump again, pumping her fist into the air, like a phoenix from the ashes, to reclaim her dance.

Until two minutes later when she'd collapse again, and have a nice refreshing rest in between the seats.

I hope that Prom Queen had fun losing herself at the concert. I suspect, however, that she didn't. I suspect that all she lost was a few of Eminem's songs, and quite a significant amount of dignity.

As for me, if I never get struck by a falling Prom Queen again, well, I won't consider myself to have lost anything at all.