I am 19-years-old and alone at an outdoor concert. This fact would not have been extraordinary had I been watching any other band play. But alas, this was not just any other band: I was at a Wiggles show.
I arrived 10 minutes late after asking not one, but three, staff members where the check-in tent to pick up my ticket was (“You’re looking for the CHICKEN tent?” asked a confused hired gun).
Eventually, however, I settled into the fringes. J. Cole keeners, bored-looking security guards, and assorted weirdos like myself hung off to the side while The Wiggles sang about fruit salad to a huge crowd of literal babies.
Arguably the biggest names in toddler-core, The Wiggles have been making music for the pre-school set longer than I’ve been alive. On-stage, they were joined by a posse of fellow entertainers that included Officer Beeples, Captain Feathersword, Dorothy the Dinosaur and their dog, who was (obviously) named Wags.
With some of the edge taken off by a $7 beer, I was free to enjoy the stream of educational hits flowing through the speakers: “Apples & Bananas,” “Wheels On The Bus,” “Simon Says,” and the perennial classic, “Big Red Car.” The highlight (read: most absurd moment) of The Wiggles’ set occurred when Captain Feathersword free-styled while Emma, the girl Wiggle, beat-boxed underneath him.
The show ended with an exhaustive medley and many a shimmy, from both performer and crowd alike. The children smiled but I was left feeling hollow. Why did I come here? I thought this would be funny, but instead I just feel uncomfortable.
I saw a toddler cry as his mom carried him away from the stage and I could not help but identify with his tears. You’re feeling bad, little dude? Same here, bud. Same here.
