Hi, My Name Is Non-Human Public Property!

Being on the live music scene you tend to come across a lot of drunk people, and half of the time, I’m one of them myself. But I showed some great restraint on the Dead Sight Tour with Villainy last month in my attempt at creating the most amount of sleep for myself and the least amount of crying while driving to the next city at 9am in the morning.

Dealing with drunk people (and being a drunk people) is all part of the music scene and 9 times out of 10 it’s an enjoyable and entertaining experience – it just gets draining when certain individuals cross a line – and there was one guy in Tauranga who really just got me wanting to cut a bitch.

Decades Emma Cameron Tauranga Mount Maunganui Richard Robinson Photography Muzic

“MAAAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHH” in Tauranga. Photo by: Richard Robinson Photography

 

Let me set the scene: I was hustling CDs at the end of the show at the exit to the venue. I was engrossed in the task, pushed-up against one of the doors to allow people to flow in front of me and pick up a CD or have a chat.

Many of these people were understandably drunk as shit after enjoying an absolutely killer show. Being “HEYYYYY. YOU’RE THAT burp-hiccup-hybrid CHICK violent sway FROM THAT BAAAANDD  spit got me right in the eye” is an experience I actually really enjoy engaging with nightly.

Shout out to those guys who are trying really hard to pretend not to be drunk – we all know drunk people have subtlety down to a fine art.

Actually, it’s more like a 4 year old’s attempt at drawing their mum which just looks like a circle with some lines coming out of it, but it’s still art, and they’re super proud of it so don’t say anything.

kids drawing of mum

This actually fucking came up when I googled “4 year old’s attempt at drawing their mum”.

But when it turns in to silently innapropriately touching me is where shit starts to get a bit… shit. So, back to the cunt-ass-guy.

He was the Picasso of drunken subtlety as he squeezed passed behind me, making sure to get his crotch really pressed in to my (admittedly, magnificent) butt.

Let’s note that there was a vast amount of space larger than the grand canyon to simply walk in front of me without touching me altogether.

As my brain registered this, I confusedly looked over to him walking towards his mate doing that “cowabunga dude” hand wiggle signal with his tongue poking out, genuinely proud he’d pulled off the most “subtle” sexual harrassment of a woman without her noticing.

Good For a Girl Emma Cameron Drunk Guy

A scientific graphic I’ve put together for you to explain this guy

 

Oh, I noticed.

“OI!” I yelled at him which either fell on deaf drunken ears, or was ignored out of not wanting a very public confrontation with me.

My pal who was helping me throw CDs at unsuspecting individuals (a fucking angel queen) caught on to what happened after some very expressive facial expressions from myself and yelled out “that’s fucked up, man. You’re fucked!”

Still nothing.

I didn’t want to cause a scene, but in retrospect I really wish I had. Like when you have an argument with someone and you come up with the perfect response 4 hours later. (THE WORST.)

It’s quite hard in the blink of a moment to decide whether or not causing a scene in front of fans will strengthen their respect for you, or in our weird-ass culture which shies away from confrontations and loud women, will cause them to dislike both myself and my band.

But it’s coming to the realisation that for some reason when you’re a “public personality;” like a musician, tv presenter, actor, a kardashian, you all of a sudden become an object without feelings to grope and hump and pretend it’s a life achievement.

What is that? Will we ever figure it out? Will Donald Trump ever die?

Anyway, fuck those guys.

I loved performing in Tauranga, the staff and crew were fantastic and the vast majority of the fans were absolutely delightful.

10/10 except douche-nozzle guy gets a solid zero. Don’t be that guy.

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Fig. 3: The butt. Photo by Matt Henry Photography for Muzic.net.nz

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