Floor Time
/flôr tīm/
noun
the 15-60 minute time period spent laying on the floor in the middle of the work day, typically as a relief from the soul-sucking reality of corporate America.
First things first, thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to fill out the Floor Time survey thus far! I’m already noodling on ideas for the coming year based on your insights, but I would love to hear from even more of you. So please keep those responses coming!
If you know me, you know that I’m a massive Maggie Rogers fan. I saw her perform for the first time in 2017 at a teensy tiny venue in San Francisco called Rickshaw Stop (I’m an OG, it’s whatevs). Since then I’ve attended five more shows, including last night at Radio City Music Hall. She. was. stellar. Maggie + her opener, Del Water Gap + David Byrne as a surprise one-night-only guest was the perfect equation I didn’t know could even exist. The only thing that could’ve made it better is the vibe of the audience.
^Photo taken in 2017 when I was second row in a sea of…12 rows? Those were the days.
Did you catch New York Magazine’s 140 Etiquette Rules article? I’ve been thinking about it a lot. The majority of the rules had me nodding in agreement, but others had me either stopping to think, damn, feels a bit harsh??, or, omg do *I* do that?? I’ll let you peruse the extensive list at your leisure.
One thing it doesn’t touch upon is concert etiquette. I’ve been to a few concerts and Broadway shows since the post-Covid reopening, and I realized that during almost all of them, I have had an irksome audience experience. One happened at Beetlejuice, where the girl behind me chowed down on a bag of crisps (the loudest of foods!!) through the entire first act. Another was at Phantom of the Opera, when a kid and his grandma chattered loudly on and off in French throughout the entire show until finally, the people next to me told them to “please shut the hell up.” Sacré bleu! Then there was this wild time a lady literally did her aromatherapy routine during the show. Like, lady, balance your chakras on your own time!!
Which brings us to last night’s Maggie show. Don’t get me wrong, none of which I’m about to tell you in any way lessened the magic that has and always will be a Maggie Rogers concert. But I do think if you are one of these three kinds of people, we need to have a wee chat about etiquette. They are as follows:
You sing louder than the artist. This one woman behind me did this the. entire. show. Girl, we get that you know every song. But I did not give a buttload of money to Ti****aster to hear you scream-sing a Grammy-nominated artist’s discography for 90 minutes.
(An extension of the aforementioned) You talk the entire show. I understand that a pop concert is loud and talking is normal, but didn’t you pay to see this artist? Why are you disrespecting them like this??
You canoodle too close to the sun. Look, love is great and all, but 90 minutes of distractedly sucking face in a public space is about 89.5 minutes too much. Never thought I’d be the curmudgeon to be all, “get a room.” Look what you made me do!!
All that said, I will also note that Radio City has assigned seating so rather than a mosh pit you’re in rows of velvet cinema-style seats. This tends to make the vibe a little more chill but also a little more sleepy. It does also mean that you’re stuck with whoever you’re next to—so maybe I just drew the short straw. The venue is undeniably stunning and packed with history and I do recommend you pay a visit, but I continue to find it odd that they use it for concerts of this genre.
Something Pretty
Another scene from Maggie, obvs.
Something To Laugh About
^I’m convinced this was me all week oop.
Dare you not to smile watching this.
Who did this I—
And here’s a little two-fer. This week I felt particularly chaotic and did a number of things off of this list (it actually did help, wow). But before that, I had seen this video—when I tell you I literally had the phonetic alphabet open so that I could say the right things while scheduling my doctor appointment… Unlike this woman, I have known that there is an official phonetic alphabet. But I never cared enough to learn it so I literally just pull words out of the multiverse—one of them famously being “haberdashery” for the “h” in my last name. I had to take a pause because the nurse couldn’t stop giggling. I live to entertain!!!
Hey, thanks for listening to me realize my final form of a crotchety old man. I will leave you with this—my contribution to the Etiquette Rules. They are as follows.
The person in the window seat has control of the window shade. Once on a flight, I sat in the window seat and the woman in the middle seat reached across me to pull down the window cover. I looked at her in disbelief and she made zero eye contact about it. Don’t forget to use your words, kids.
Don’t show up to a host’s home empty-handed (if my parents ever saw me do this I would get a stern talking to, even at this age). Even if the host is all, “just bring yourself!” when you ask if they need anything, bring something. This is widely known, right? We all do this?
If someone consistently is the plan-maker, it’s common courtesy to be it back. Planning shit takes time and thought. It’s an act of service! If planning isn’t your thing, all good. What else can you contribute that requires equal time and thought?
Any etiquette rules you have to add to the list? Any horror stories of social interactions since the Covid reopening? Tell me all your cringe-worthy anecdotes so we can commiserate together!
And one more time—if you like/hate what you see, please tell me about it by filling out the annual survey.
Til’ next time, courteous humans. Your friend,
Clarice
By the way…I’m reading this.
I’m not sure this is really the book I’m in the mood for at the moment, but I started Milk Fed by Melissa Broder. I will admit, it has a stellar cover. Will report back with my official review :)