Sploosh. Ah, the sound of Heineken splashing on you. Although you are being pushed, shoved, bumped around and doused with beer (of which there is a 50 percent chance that it has been spit out of someone’s mouth), do you even care? Heck no. Because for months you have been anticipating this concert, ever since you waited for hours until ticket sales opened so you could get your hands on a coveted place in the pit. And now you are there, shoved up nice and close to 50 or so other sweaty, adrenaline-rushed fans, standing for what could be up to five hours straight. You are totally unwilling to leave just to get a bottle of water to prevent yourself from keeling over with dehydration for fear of losing your spot near the stage.

Depending on which band you’re undergoing the pit experience for, you could end up with far worse than a grumbling stomach and sore feet. Whereas buying tickets to go see an indie rock band like Vampire Weekend would only result in a few bumpings-around, a pit ticket to see Rob Zombie could result in a broken limb and being carted off by EMTs to the sides of the stage.

Along with the potential dangers of being tossed around in the pit comes the immense satisfaction of being just a few feet away from the band you have been attached to for the last three years. So close, in fact, that you can see the perspiration flinging off the band members’ faces by the second hour of the concert. Mesmerized by the performance and tossed in with the excitement of everyone around you, you close your eyes, expecting to hear the voice of the person who you’ve been listening to via iPod for the last few years. What you end up hearing is the yelling – not singing – of the song lyrics by the 13-year-old super-fan jumping around behind you.

The concert experience is exactly that: an experience. You cannot go to hear a band play and actually expect to hear them. There is so much shouting and squealing that the actual sound of the band is essentially drowned out. Conversely, if you end up being in the back few rows on the lawn, you can barely see the tiny little stick figures with guitars, in addition to hardly being able to hear the music. Is it even really worth it to drive an hour or so away to go see a band that you won’t even see or, let alone, hear?

I say it is. Why not let the anticipation of simply going to a concert just build up and get you excited? Who cares if you won’t even see the band? Finally arriving and letting everyone’s contagious excitement get to you is half the fun. By the time you get home all you need is a serious shower and ample time for your ear hairs to grow back.