Queues Are A Blast

Categorised as STUFF., STYLE.

There is literally nothing else I love more than spending my Tuesday evenings standing in a queue for two and a half hours, watching the line continuously get wider ahead of me as more people come and say a quick, innocent hello to their pals—fuck off, chat and cutters—then being crushed from all angles for another hour, before just about catching two songs of the performer I’ve been waiting to see all night. Every single time I’ve done it it’s been a fucking blast, obviously, but seeing as you’re pushing me to pick a winner, I guess I’m gonna have to go for last night’s A$AP Rocky gig at Cargo.

The queue had everything you’d ever want from a classic Tuesday night wait-fest—countless half-full beer cans being thrown in the air, angry groups of guys digging impossibly sharp elbows into your back, and, most importantly, loads of purposefully intimidating people wearing their best queuing attire. Because what’s a good queue without well-dressed people judgmentally staring you down? Well, not nearly as much of a fucking laugh, for a start!

 I tried asking this guy some questions about his outfit after we took this photo, but he just kept pulling this face and doing a weird pout thing while slowly closing his eyes, kind of how I imagine Rick Ross looks when he’s getting his pole polished. He did have the blind courage to walk around with a comb stuck in his beard, though—and cocaine in his nose?—which is pretty adorable.

  This girl was painfully shy, which made her perfectly executed streetwear-meets-metal-loving-Sade-from-the-80s look so much more heavenly. Mind you, when you’re surrounded by neon RayBan-wearing dudes pretending to text, it’s not hard to look like the hottest thing on the planet.

I’ve never seen a higher concentration of Supreme caps and jackets in one place before, so the French guy wearing the Pigalle shirt was a welcome switch-up to the brand fascism going on in the rest of the queue. The Pigalle guy and his friend in the middle kept telling us that they “fucked wit'” A$AP up in New York. We asked them why they weren’t in the guestlist line, then everything got really awkward. That demonic serpent in the blue and yellow cap is Brandon Sales—the kid who posts annoying videos on YouTube and has every hypebeast on the internet hating on him for owning an expensive collection of clothes.

I’m not sure what this guy’s game was. We kept trying to take his photo and he kept running down an alley near the queue, then reappearing a minute or two later. Maybe he’s even more experienced in enjoying Tuesday night queues than me? I suppose intentionally losing your place in line over and over again could be a kick-ass-acre of an adrenaline rush, right? Whatever, his Raiders shirt was cool.

This girl is what I hoped everybody in the queue would look like. Sadly she was the only person I saw wearing a grill, bandanas, and a studded leather jacket all night, which did put a mild dampener on my queue-enjoyment. But hey, at least I only got to see two songs and pay £5 for bottles of beer all night, so not everything was a washout.


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