The last time I was at the Belly Up I high fived a hipster. The results were fascinating and hilarious; I came out after the show to see my “victim” sitting on a ledge outside being consoled by his girlfriend.
“It was a good show though, right baby?” she said with a hopeful and worried tone.
He responded with his head hung low, “Yeah it was okay…I just can’t believe that guy high fived me.”
I had apparently ruined the guy’s life. I spent the car ride home making obnoxious phone calls at 1am telling my friends the story of the wounded hipster. Why the hell did I high five him anyways? The moment had come right after Built to Spill finished an extended version of “Randy Described Eternity” and I was in heaven. It was one of those concert moments that I live for; it felt like there was no way anybody in the audience could have been on any level other than the one I was on: pure stupid bliss. Continue reading