Thursday night at approximately 9:20 p.m., all of my dreams came true. Regina Spektor walked on stage and took a seat at a beautiful baby grand.

Backstory: In 2008, I had tickets to see Regina Spektor at the Tabernacle in Atlanta, Ga., but she rescheduled to the night before I was supposed to take the SAT. In the end, though, I actually ended up sending my ACT scores to Wash. U.

Thus, when I found out Regina Spektor was coming to the Pageant you can bet your bottom dollar I was on that bandwagon. The atmosphere at the venue was fraught with anticipation, a blend of die-hard indie fans, people who really liked that one song in “500 Days of Summer” (but really just Joseph Gordon-Levitt), and…a large number of teenage girls. One group actually began screaming when she waved at them. It felt like a Justin Bieber concert for a moment…but just for a moment.

According to the people who got angry when my group of friends and I were standing in front of their seats, people got there early to be able to sit down and be on the floor—as in 6 p.m. early. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the layout of The Pageant, it has a floor-space, two mini “balconies” of seating, an actual, upstairs balcony, and standing room in the very back and on all balconies. It should also be noted that much of the space is 21+, which makes other spaces even more squished. Overall, The Pageant is a miserable venue, unless you are on the floor, because if you don’t get seats or are on the floor, you essentially have to stand in front of people. On this night, it was pretty clear that not only was the venue sold-out, but it also appeared that they had over-sold tickets. There was very little space to do anything.

But then Spektor awkwardly and gently bounded on stage with a huge and genuine smile plastered to her face. Any issues with space or visibility disappeared, her voice crooning out songs from all her albums. She even sang an incredibly moving and lovely song in Russian, “The Prayer of Francois Villon,” easily one of the best of the night. She effortlessly moved from chest voice to head voice, making many audience members swoon or cry. There were a lot of tears. I almost cried during “Eet.” I’m not ashamed. After every song she took a swig of water, giggled to herself and exclaimed, “Thank you so much.”

Then there were the singers. For those of us who listen to Spektor, even just that one song from “500 Days of Summer,” we can admit that we know many, if not all of the words. We may even prove our knowledge of these words in the shower, car, voice recitals, auditions, crowded rooms, whatever. However, at a concert for Regina Spektor, I was appalled at the amount of people who felt that the best way to pay tribute to her (or whatever their logic was) was to sing along. I found myself uncomfortably unable to fully enjoy myself because I was too busy cringing at the unwanted choir that joined Regina. The girl to my left continually turned around to her friends, flipping her hair while belting all of the words. As much as I wanted to be in this world Regina was creating, I was pretty distracted.

Before arriving, I made the decision not to sing during the concert because I knew I was there to see Spektor, to finally hear her voice live. As much hatred as I am spewing at the people who did choose to sing along, I don’t know if I am a better person for my choice. Amidst all of the beauty in sound and performance, I found myself asking about the moral implications of singing along at concerts, if maybe this was one of those shows where people were supposed to sing along. Maybe I am being too critical of those around me because, after all, Spektor still charmed, and that’s what I was there to see in the first place.