The night after the majestic frosting of the Magic City, merely hours after Ryan stole the sweet, naïve hearts of two Swedish girls newly arrived to America, Warden, Keith, Elaine, and I tramped over to Jonathan Benton Bookseller in the Brook to watch the Triceratops perform for the umpteenth time. Tonight, however, was to be of a different sort- The Triceratops were backing a band called These United States, a brave bunch who were on a tour of thirty-three cities, using a different accompanying band at every stop.
They were quite enjoyable; unfortunately, the Triceratops were mediocre. Thankfully, that’s not the story… No, no… our memorable tale begins when the lead singer of These United States, a decidedly-clever, Sam-Beam-beard-sporting fellow comically & rhetorically remarked, after Stewart Vann & the TUS guitarist switched instruments yet again, “Can anyone else play anything? You should play with us” or something of the like.
In a nanosecond, a pale kid with a poof head shot up and emphatically pointed towards his friend declaring, “Oh, THIS guy is!” A hardly-sheepish high schooler in an over-sized army jacket and goofy hat “graciously” acknowledged the comment and rose to the occasion. The lead singer made a few comments about how terribly set-up this must all seem & swore that he had never before met the strange child standing before him, who claimed to be an exceptional “clapper.”
So the jolly misfit clapped and clapped until a lightning bolt struck his awkward brain and he stole behind the drum set and asked permission to throw down on the sleigh bells. The song reached its beautiful conclusion… but our valiant hero was far from finished. In fact, he disappeared behind the band in between songs only to re-emerge with two solid footstools- one to sit on and the other to beat as a drum. We winced. Keith, barely able to watch, commented that the kid reminded him of “Michael Scott”- in other words, blissfully unaware that he was painfully awkward. Captain Uncomfortable swallowed the end of the next song with his footstool/djimbae roll. And I almost forgot to mention that his friend, mushroom-head himself, was feverishly documenting the most spectacular scene of his companion’s undeniably graceless life frame by frame. It hurt to witness.
In other news, I tried to make fun of Will applying to the NPR post by informing him that a radio playlist had to include more than four and a half bands, but he quickly quipped that tithing was supposed to be about giving ten percent of your money, not your ministry time. Well played, sir. Also, in three days, Jamie Leigh Simpson and I will ride the Spirit of St. Louis to The Beloved Country. Erin & I will be spending St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin. Don’t worry, I’ll drown your jealously for you… with Guinness… in a truly Irish Pub.
Lastly, (DISCLAIMER: MISTUH BLIAN WEED DIS) I took the job with Campus Outreach. I’m guaranteed to be in Birmingham through the end of 2008, but I’m not sure precisely where I’m headed after that. God-willing, I’ll stick in the ‘Ham. Keep up the good posting.
4 comments:
Does anyone else think that "a pale kid with a poof head" sounds like a description of Matt Francisco?
Matt, let me know how the Irish like their "kegs and eggs" breakfasts.
i laughed out loud at my desk first, when i read the original poof head comment, and then louder when i read patrick's. oh i'm proud of this blog.
pat! that was exactly the first thought that popped into my head when i read said poof head comment!
I feel like ya'll are picking on Matt. Don't. He sleeps on the floor.
I almost pooped in my pants at the concert. I liked the situation to a kid running around a room full of Picaso and Monet paintings with two industrial sized sharpies.
Great story telling Matt
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