Opening Act: I bought a ticket

I went today after class to buy a ticket to the next object of my Teen Beat affection. The venue is a coffee house in a strip mall between a Petco and a hardware store deep in the northern Virginia suburbs. The number of signs warning customers not to park at the Petco (towing strongly enforced-Petco is not effing around) may outnumber the number of actual band posters. Gotta feel like a rockstar when you're the headliner at this place. If I'm the traveling band man, maybe I look at the red/blue Petco sign and all the other signs on my venue door warning me about Petco and I think maybe I missed a turn somewhere on the way to my dream.

I was the only person in the place which was staffed by three college aged kids, predictably wearing all black. One of the guys was sporting the required obnoxious slouchy knit cap. The girl was wearing the small hoop nose piercing of a person who is straddling the gap between looking like someone who recycles, likes PBR, obscure bands, and Russian literature, and having something they can take out when they want to interview for a real job one day. Pretty sure there was some strong parental resistance with that nose ring and she has to take it out for church on Sunday. Didn't spot a tattoo on any of them which means their parents probably pull in at least 200K a year. I've been to the 930 club in D.C. and it's an intimate space but it feels like an authentic venue with authentic homeless people waiting to stab you after the show. It's amazing how quickly the neighborhood turns as you get within a half block of the club. It went from chit chat with my girlfriend to a quiet, brisk, situational-awareness stride. No signs about parking at the Petco at the 930 club and the staff is authentically alternative and not angling for that congressional internship anytime soon.

So we shall see.