Serving the Spreadheads


Apparently the folks at the Adams Center haven’t caught on to the fact that concertgoers don’t like wristbands. They don’t like wristbands for buying concert tickets, and the 5,000 or so half-drunk Spreadheads (that’s the term for Widespread Panic fans, dude) definitely didn’t like waiting in line under the obnoxious florescent glare of the East Auxiliary Gymnasium to hand over $1 for a wristband just to have the right to buy a $4 beer at Tuesday’s concert.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I gotta pay a buck for a wristband?” yelped one bleary-eyed member of the Widespread family as he approached the banding line.

“Now I gotta go stand in another line? Gimme a break!” cried a patchouli-smelling girl as she moved from the wristband line to the beer line.
It was no picnic for the unfortunate—and sober—souls working the thoroughly cordoned-off “beer garden,” either. Hippies are apparently very cool right up until procedural muck gets in the way of their buzz.

“All we get all night is complaints—people screaming, ‘Let’s go!’ and ‘You’re raping us!’” says one veteran vendor who requested anonymity. “The only thing we can do is smile and say, ‘I hope you get your face rocked off—have a great a show!’”

There was at least some karmic payback for the vendors at Widespread Panic. When the cubbyhole-sized smoking area located just off the beer garden overflowed during Panic’s set break those stuck in the human traffic jam decided to light up right in the gym. The considerable amount of smoke rose to the ceiling and ended up killing off a large colony of gnats circling the gym’s lights, causing them to fall into a bevy of pre-poured beer cups.

“We just sort of dumped off the top layer,” says the vendor. “There were so many people on so many things, no one really seemed to notice.”


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