I suppose I'm a "Disappointed Dad" seeing as how I'm a misanthropic father of two who thinks dancing is a waste of time and energy. I used to enjoy Phish crowds, but that was back in the days immediately before and after Jerry died when we had a shedload of old-school Deadheads intermingling, sharing their hippie wisdom, smelly hugs, homemade hacky sacks (also smelly), vials of liquid acid, and generous tokes from their thai sticks.

Since then, however, the frat boys have discovered that Widespread Panic suck, and they have infiltrated the ranks so much so that they're all I can see anymore. "Sure, Jackson Paddlington-Thistleworth, the Third, I'll take a hit of your joint, but you're gonna f*ck off immediately afterwards. And tell your girlfriend, the Queen of Vocal Fry and Uptalk, to quit touching my arm and telling me to 'dance and be happy'".

So...
If you see a guy standing on the lawn (I can only go to lawn shows now), arms folded, eyes closed, and head bobbing ever so slightly to Mike chasing the back beat from behind, don't tell him to dance or smile. He's enjoying it in his own special, misanthropic way. Just pass him a bowl, tell him to enjoy his night of freedom, and go enjoy the show in whatever way you see fit.
Cheers.

Got carried away there. Excellent write-up, mate. I got a hearty chuckle from your description of "The Chomper".