No cell phones (Or: How to make a bunch of twenty-somethings’ heads explode)

On Saturday night, my boyfriend and I went to a She & Him concert in Central Park. Despite the fact that it was about 187 degrees, it was such a perfectly pleasant night – outdoors in a lovely setting; sun setting and sky changing colors; mellow, happy music. A really perfect time to be present, in the moment.

On our way in, we overheard event staff saying “no social media.” Then, as we entered the venue, we saw this sign: “At the request of She & Him, we ask that people not use their cell phones to take pictures and video, but instead enjoy the show they have put together in 3D!” In other words, look at the band as they’re performing – not into your cell phone. Just before the show started, an announcement was made reiterating the band’s request.

And, I’m sure you can guess what happened. Security reprimanded a few people on the outskirts of the crowd, but there wasn’t much they could do. At one point, the girl in front of me indignantly said to her friend, “How can you tell people, in 2013, that they can’t use their cell phones?” My boyfriend agreed with her. I didn’t.

Because I get it – this band is up there giving their heart and soul to this performance, sharing their music with the world. What would they rather see – the whole crowd looking back at them, or a bunch of bowed heads and illuminated screens?

Moments earlier, I had watched that same girl take a photo with her iPhone, edit it, peruse every filter on Instagram, finally choose one, and then post it to her account – missing at least two songs in the process. She wasn’t watching the band that she had paid to go see, of whom she was presumably a fan – because it was more important that she keep her legions of followers up-to-the-minute on her goings-on.

I could literally rant for hours about how people my age and younger seem to have no concept of being present when you do something. Of focusing more on the experience at hand than how you can sum it up in 140 characters. Of making a memory with the people around you without frantically trying to describe it to everyone else. Of — call me crazy — just enjoying a moment yourself, without broadcasting it to anyone.

I’m not saying there’s something wrong with taking photos at a concert, of course not – everyone likes to have mementos of their experiences to look back on. But there’s a big difference between snapping a photo, and missing half an event because you’re so focused on making sure your “friends” know just how much fun you’re theoretically having at all times.

Honestly, it drives me bananas.

One single time, I peeked at my phone in my purse to see what time it was. I did not experience any angst, discomfort or withdrawal during our separation. Instead, I noticed things like the fireflies floating above the crowd and the little girl with pigtails being tossed in the air by her dad. I noticed how the sherbety-colored stage lights melted into the backdrop of the setting sun, and relished when a rare breeze passed over me and broke the heat.

It was a beautiful night, and I’m glad those are the things I’ll remember when I look back on it – not what it was like to scroll through my Twitter feed for the 50^th time that day.