So, the post I wanted to do Saturday, before I got carried away.
Saw Mint Condition and Maze on Friday. Mint didn’t put on a great show. I saw them do a better one in a hotel ballroom in 2000, but they weren’t bad. Plus, it was hot as Hades. I can’t knock ’em for mailing it in a bit.
Maze, as expected, ripped it. It was about the same show as we saw in Atlanta, but it was dope. Special props to the guitar player, who ripped the solo on “Golden Time of Day” while hunting the front few rows for post-show Stellas. Good job he did.
Now, Frankie’s got that charisma. And, as is typically the case at R&B concerts, the large women were the ones having the best time. By the end of the show, folks had come from the lawn to the front row (we were on the second row). About 60 percent of them were women over size 16.
They came, and they danced. They came and they screamed Frankie!!! in a voice approaching a shrill. They blocked the aisle, which was surely a fire hazard. They got their money’s worth.
More accurately, they got my money’s worth. Them seats me and my fiancee had were more expensive. They were cutting into our dancing room, as my man Mark noted.
So then the show ended. Frankie, who was sweating like a greatly underpaid laborer, wiped his face with a white towel and threw it in the front row.

This woman in the front row caught the towel. If you click on it, you can see the towel in her hand, right next to what appears to be some bottled Bacardi concoction.  On her body is some combination of jungle floral something and what appears to be cheetah print.  If not cheetah, then some other animal that could both outrun and maul you.
Now, she didn’t just catch the towel. She pushed people to get that towel, even though it was thrown right at her. She pushed a dude, who then fell into my fiancee. And I promise, he threw it right at her. I saw the towel fly. Next thing I knew, my lady was stumbling.
That ain’t right.
Now, here’s my question–why is it that big black women have more fun at concerts than anyone else? This ain’t the first time I’ve seen this. If somebody’s singing, big black women are loving it. Whoever’s singing is singing to them. And don’t let it be a big singer. Luther, Gerald, Barry…the big women love them.
Why is that? What does it for them? Or, if it applies, you?
I mean, they rushed the stage for “Before I Let Go.” They were in force, man. And, like I said, shawty knocked a grown man down. All for a sweaty towel.
So, can someone explain why they have so much more fun than everyone else?