The tension in the air was palpable. The doors opened at 7, the time was now midnight, and still, no Snoop. The opening acts were particularly disappointing, and did little to quell the visibly unsettled crowd. The girl in front of me had already passed out standing up and been carried out by a security guard, her head hanging back over his thick arm. My friends and I had already been in and out of the fray several times because we thought it was wiser to rest our legs than keep our places. But finally, the lights went out, and the wait was immediately worth it.

Between our parking spot and The Showbox, we saw four passing patrol cars, which made us worry about how rowdy this concert might get. However, about a block from The Showbox, we noticed that the police had all gone to Krispy Kreme, and our fears of a riot were assuaged.

After being frisked by the bossy security staff, we entered the show, ready for Snoop to take the stage, but fully aware that we would have to endure some opening acts first. Both the openers, Grynch and Helladope, were Seattle based artists, which was nice to see, especially heading for such a big name, but I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed either act. Grynch was considerably underwhelming, and the fact that he had a rather irritating song about driving his mom’s Volvo didn’t exactly help. Helladope played a few good songs, and were fun for the first 15 minutes, but their set lasted entirely too long. I felt kind of bad as they were pelted with restless boos, and I was left wondering if they could have really done anything to save their performance. They certainly didn’t command the kind of energy required to rein in the restless crowd, but it was hard to tell whether or not that was the fault of the musicians or the insurmountable impatience of the audience.

The excitement was only fur­ther kindled by a 20 minute showing of the beginning of a film version of Snoop’s latest album, Malice n Wonderland. Not content with just the music of Malice, Snoop Dogg is releasing a film rap-opera, featuring Jamie Foxx and Xzibit, with the extended version of his new album. The first 20 minutes depicted a dystopia wherein only Snoop Dogg could save humanity, as his super-power bestowed alter ego, “Malice,” The part of the film we saw was enjoyable, and left me eager for the final product.

Finally, after what seemed like an endless wait, the ache disappeared from my legs, and I didn’t feel so thirsty anymore. The lights went down, and the screen at the back of the stage lit up with images of Snoop in his element as intense classical music blasted. As soon as the images faded and the song tapered out, one of Snoop’s classic hits, “The Next Episode” began, and the crowd’s pent up excitement was released in a collective roar. Snoop Dogg was finally here. Snoop Dogg emerged, clad in a sweat suit and a black and purple UW shirt, wearing sunglasses in a feeble at­tempt to conceal his clearly illegal state of mind. He sort of blew his cover five minutes later, by whipping off his glasses into the crowd, revealing his incriminatingly red eyes, and then proceeding to request a blunt from whoever had one available in the front row. His request granted, he continued the show.

The best part of the show was the way Snoop Dogg conducted himself onstage. Swag has become a serious buzz word in rap and hip hop music, and it usually connotes a sort of boastful, ostentatious attitude. Friday night, I saw true swag exemplified by Snoop Dogg onstage. He wasn’t boasting about his vast riches or wenches who catered to his every whim, but he commanded an unparalleled air of respect usually reserved for presidents and Super Bowl winners. The 2Pac and Biggie songs he sang along to with the crowd bridged the small lane occupied by security between the crowd and the stage, and made it feel like everyone was just hanging out with Snoop, even thought the crowd was mostly preppy white kids who Snoop wouldn’t be caught dead with. The highlight of the concert wasn’t a filthy verse, but the complete opposite, a moment of complete silence that followed a pause in the middle of a song, dictated by a commanding “stop.” It showed the world that Snoop was still around, and and Soulja Boy’s swag was a mere pittance compared to the wealth of respect commanded by tha Dogg.