Karen Gross, former director of the Austin chapter of the Anti-Defamation League, studied property law in law school. She wants to apply those concepts to phenomena like the ACL Fest and other music events, if only in theory. "Some people feel ownership of the space around them," Gross says. "They don’t own it." She wants to look at all the perceptual aspects of audience property. She’d have plenty of witnesses with strong opinions. Some fans demonstrate no sense of dominion. They live for the crush. They become one with hundreds, if not thousands. I’ve been caught in that crush. It can be terrifying. Many others, however, would rather be surrounded by real estate. Not a lot. Just enough to breathe. The chair people, of course, are the homesteaders of this set. Some plant themselves on the former farmland that belonged to Andrew Zilker and don’t move until it’s time to go altogether. Others generally don’t challenge this ownership. Anyway, they really want a closer look at the stage, so leave well enough alone. Or they prefer to stand, dance or move around fairly open space. They are the nomadic tribes of music festivals. Yet the concept of trespassing is squishy here in this settled territory. Some in the chair-and-blanket crowd delibrately block lateral access, like a rancher keeping a neighbor from delivering his cattle to the market road. A court would have something to say about that. More complicated are the relationships among those standing — or more likely, swaying — everywhere else. How much sway room can they claim? There seems to be no common law here. Particluarly nettlesome are the patrons who enter one’s immediate spatial penumbra, then act all hinky when they can’t swig their beer or swing their hat without hitting you. As if you initiated the assault. And sometimes, their actions are akin to legal assault. My personal strategy — shared with others I see at the same ACL stages over the course of the festival — is to stick near a solid object, like a speaker or a sound booth. That way, you can depend on a natural boundary, even if it partially blocks your view of the performers. Nothing is worse than standing in or near an unmarked, unprotected aisle and have speeding fans rushing past you in both directions. Especially if you are, like me, pushing 60. Hey kid, I could break a hip. Gross and I barely scratched the surface of the subject, but I think there’s a more compelling story to tell someday.