Concert mania ...
There are those who would call it unfortunate luck. I tend to believe it is a highly developed sixth sense, recognized early on and carefully nurtured over the years. As a shaman attains an almost mythical tribal status through conversing with netherworld spirits, so have I elevated myself to unthinkable heights as a medium of idiocy, a clairvoyant of the moronic, a visionary of stooge like behavior.
Reinforcing this belief are the following incidents, cultivated from concert experiences I have endured ... witnessed and verifiable through friends, family and/or minor acquaintances whom I may have coerced through excessive force. Draw your own conclusions ...
• Fresh out of high school, I attended my first major music event. Several late ‘70’s rock bands at an outdoor venue seemed like the perfect show ... or so we thought. Unfolding his frayed nylon, aluminum-framed lawn chair, he plopped his shirtless hulk down and settled in with a friendly nod in our direction. With a sleight of hand David Copperfield would be proud of, he produced a brown paper lunch sack, emptied its multi colored pharmaceutical contents into the palm of his hand, and swallowed the whole lot without chewing. Amazingly, 15 minutes passed before he collapsed, unconsciously nose diving into the sod, where he lay motionless for several hours, the chair folded over his skyward facing behind.
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