The timing between an opening band walking off stage and the headliner marching on is a delicate… The timing between an opening band walking off stage and the headliner marching on is a delicate balance.

If there’s not enough time, a band sacrifices suspense and excitement, but, on the other hand, in an overcrowded venue in the heat of summer, what feels like a minute to the band can feel like hours to the audience — especially a lone little Pittsburgher lost in a sea of unusually tall people from Ohio.

Such was the case on my recent trip to Columbus’s Lifestyle Pavilion to see Modest Mouse.

After a solid opening set by a nice freak folk band, I made my tragic mistake.

I left my comfortable and fairly close standing spot to run off to purchase a bottle of water at the bargain price of $2.50.

I came back to something I can describe only as terrifying.

In my five-minute absence, the number of people in the already-crowded standing space had doubled, leaving me to navigate, worm and plead my way through an angry labyrinth of dreaded Ohioans until I found my friends.

After the initial panic, I dove in.

A bit of “please,” “thank you,” “sorry” and “excuse me” got me about a grand total of 10 feet into the crowd where I met my first foe.

A 3-foot circle had cleared around what initially appeared to be an octopus having a seizure but turned out to be a tall white guy with dreadlocks thrashing along to the Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers.

A quick pelvis thrust and a flying elbow from the dreadlocked fiend knocked an innocent bystander’s beer directly on me.

But, in an instant, a narrow path opened up before me, and I pressed on with beer in my shoes and a song of hope in my heart.

Five feet and 30 rude comments later, another space in the crowd had cleared around a single old man garbed in a leather biker vest with matching pants, a bandana around his head and aviators straight out of the ’70s.

I was about to take advantage of the gap to move through the crowd when one of the girls standing just out of arms reach from him grabbed my arm and told me that I probably didn’t want to do that.

Without asking questions, I found a detour and moved on.

An odyssey full of drunks, crushed toes, verbal abuse and a brief incident of sexual harassment later, against all odds I was reunited with my friends.

After another 15 minutes, I watched (or rather heard — see aforementioned unusually tall crowd) Modest Mouse put on a great show worth driving four hours to see.

But, that 40-minute gap in the show left what started as a happy crowd hot, impatient and agitated while waiting for the headlining band.

So, my question is, where was Modest Mouse through all of this?

Sure, there’s a distinct possibility the band was setting up equipment or going over the set. But, bands should be aware of the conditions in which their audiences are waiting.

If it’s hot and crowded and fights are breaking out every 10 minutes, it’s time to step in and give the people what they want.

By the time Modest Mouse finally came on, half the crowd’s enthusiasm had smoldered into a sweaty, exhausted irritation.

Shortening that 40-minute wait could have doubled the energy of the concert and made the experience 10 times better.