I’m sure everyone is sick to death of hearing about Henry Rollins, but I just remembered a noteworthy incident at last nights show. About 5 minutes before the show started, the swarthy, bushy-haired man sitting in front of me turned around and said “Hey, can you see OK brother?”
I was pretty amazed, since no one I’ve sat behind has ever, ever been concerned about whether or not I could see whatever we were all watching. At first this reaffirmed much of my failing faith in humanity, but then I remembered that this was a Henry Rollins show. Henry Rollins is fucking awesome a great human being, and I’m pretty sure that only fucking awesome great people care enough to put up with TicketBastard* in order to come listen to him speak. There are very few reasons that I decide to give money to a company that I hate with every fiber of my being, and making sure that I don’t walk away from the box office with a sad indian tear rolling down my cheek — due to being unable to see Henry Rollins — is right at the top of that list.
*: Tickets were $22.50. I purchased two of them, and it cost me $59.99. I ought to have been able to bring my midget along after paying TicketMaster what amounts to 2/3 of another ticket. Heck, that’s possibly 2 midgets, depending on height.
