Yes, the sun did shine upon that show, but not on our chance meeting.
ME: Early 20s writer/fan hanging out at the show, minding my own business at the bar between sets.
YOU: A 30s-ish couple couple, a tad mismatched in terms of personality and attractiveness, sitting a few seats down at the bar, looking a bit out of place.
Your male half greeted me, apropos of nothing, with "GET A HAIRCUT, HIPPIE!" even though I've been keeping it short lately. It all turned out to be in good fun, and you also went on to note that I "look like a baby," yet I couldn't help but wonder why you both continued to pursue conversation with me, or why your female half bought me a beer (which was nice). Was some sort of cult and/or kidnapping scheme afoot? After getting through the standard questions about my age and origins, she explained you were there because he'd read about the headlining band "in the paper," but so far had been disappointed. (For the record, I thought all the bands were lots of fun.) "Where'd you read it?" I asked. "In The Onion," your male half replied.
"Oh, I wrote that," I said.
"Will this band rock?" he asked.
"Yes. I have seen them rock before. I have also heard them rock on record. Believe me, you will be sufficiently rocked."
Then you left two songs into the band's set, failing to partake of the very rocking that, because of me, you had sought. But I felt like we made a real connection, especially while messing with each other and trading softball insults. We brought out each other's weird sides, and I felt fireworks in my belly. Maybe I'll run into you at a Hinder show someday, should you seek to be rocked there. Would love a chance to share with you my handmade bedroom garments, crafted entirely from Fruit Roll-Ups, and creepily observe your domestic foibles.
