Open Page, v 1.1
Today’s story is called:
Spilling beer on a punk rock legend
—or—
How I tripped over Grant Hart
One of the things that I like most about living in NYC is that you can be sitting at the office @ 9 PM on a Sunday, and suddenly realize you were going to go see Grant tonight @ the Mercury Lounge.
So, I hop on a train … long, horrible train story omitted … So I get out of the cab & go inside. Walk in and there’s this really… interesting… guy w/ a guitar screaming & about 30 white, 20something men standing around. Luckily there’re only a few minutes before Grant’s going to come on, so I go get a beer.
Walking back to my spot (right in front of the sound booth) I’m looking around – watching all the people giggle, many more politely than he deserves, at this guy and thinking how far Grant’s fallen. The next thing I know, I’m standing on something where my spot used to be. I look down to see Grant gazing back up at me, having quietly yet firmly planted himself up against the sound booth.
Now this is where it gets really uncomfortable, because what do you say when you’re standing on the ankle of GRANT freaking HART? Oh… sorry… oh, it’s you… oh … sorry … wow, hey …
Someday, I’ll learn how to speak w/ people.
So I didn’t really spill any beer, but it looked good in the title – and I really could have. It was a brand new beer.