Photo: "W.A.S. / Art Brut / Spinto Band @ La Tulipe," by Midnight Poutine Flickr pooler Nika.

Every concert-goer has a pet peeve. Whether it's the horde of suburban teenagers in the front row singing the lyrics to every song or the fraternity douchebags sloshing their drinks all over you, there's usually a point where you shake your head and mutter to a friend. Granted, it's annoying. But these are things to be expected at a concert and, in the end, life goes on.

There is, however, a breaking point. Yesterday, my roommate got trampled during Girl Talk. She was knocked down as people mobbed the stage, bottlenecking through an improvised staircase that she happened to be standing near. The two friends that she was with tried to help her up, but repeatedly got pushed back by the surging crowd.

My roommate tried to reach out to them, but gave up in favour of protecting herself. She lay in a ball as people stepped all over her: on her wrists, on her ankles, on her fucking face. In the process, her purse was ripped from its strap and lost in the crowd. Inside were her bank card, Opus card, passport, money, glasses, and Vancouver medicare card.

Eventually, after a full minute on the ground, someone helped her up. Operating on pure adrenaline, she stumbled around for a bit, then made a beeline for the exit. Realizing that she'd lost her ticket, she described her jacket to one of the coat check personnel. Luckily, he was kind enough to help her find her stuff. She found her cell phone in one of the pockets and called home.

My boyfriend and I had already gone to bed when we heard her boyfriend, who was over and waiting up for her, call out to us. Due to some freak coincidence, we had a car at our disposal last night. We drove across town to find her alone and crying in front of an apartment building.

Which brings me to the question: What the fuck? What is it with the lack of concern for others? Is it so important to dance with Girl Talk that you can't take the time to help someone up? No one's going to convince me that you don't notice when you're stepping on someone's face. At some point, it's not just fun and games anymore.

By no stretch of the imagination is my roommate a small person. She's 5'10, solidly built, and pretty damn fierce. At Justice, I saw her slug a guy who cupped her ass and had the bad luck of saying something obscene at the same time. At Chromeo, she spoke up for a complete stranger after a pair of harpies bogarted their way to the front. How is it that this person was so humiliated last night?

My suggestion to Metropolis: Beef up security for bigger shows. Apparently, the reason why security guards didn't help her up is because their attention was stretched too thin stemming the influx of people wanting to get onstage. I don't blame them, but I do blame the venue for doing such a shit job of ensuring everyone's safety.

As for everyone else, I urge you to remember that concerts aren't just about music. They're about coming together and having a good time, which entails a basic level of respect for people. Next time a mob gets going, keep an eye out for your peers. Don't let anyone get dragged down into the mud lest things go too far one day.