15 + 5 points
Buy A Stranger A Drink by Saul Z
February 14th, 2007 3:16 PM
About three weeks ago, a friend called me up and said non-chalantly - as if I should already know, like it was yesterday's weather report or a revlation of political corruption involving money, sex, and weapons - "You know Bonnie Prince Billy played in Tel Aviv last night and there'll be another show on Saturday. Too bad it's sold out."
Since I have a problem in that I have spent the last 3 years of my life listening exclusively to various incarnations of Mr. Oldham, I began to scream uncontrollably and curse this friend for not telling me sooner. I went to the show anyway, finagled a ticket (from a couple who made me feel quite uncomfortable with their touching) and was able to watch my dear Prince in a small bar that fit maybe 50 people. Who knows why BPB came to Israel, but that is a discussion for another time. (The evening's rendition of John the Baptist was quite heartfelt I thought.) I thought about buying the couple a drink, but well, they were in the middle of something, meaning each other. And Mr. Oldham didn't seem to to need anymore drinks.
The next week, while SF SF0ers solved mysteries in a soaked city, I found myself in distant London where I was taking a break from life in the Holy Land. I was non-chalantly checking a site for concerts in the city that evening when my dear Prince again reared his ugly beautiful head. I quickly jumped on a tube to make the 7:00 pm start time of the sold-out show (that was very odd, the end of drinking at 11 pm).
On the train I found myself sitting across from a young lady that looked (frightingly) surprisingly like a lady-friend of mine in Israel. I stole some awkward glances. We got off at the same stop. I had no idea where I was going and was without ticket. Whereupon I asked her if she knew where the hall was and also explained my predicament. She was quite polite and admitted that she had no clue herself where she was. But luckily for everyone involved, as we talked it up, it became clear that she was meeting up with friends who knew where they were going AND she had an extra ticket.
Yeah!
This second show was less intimate of course but enjoyable as local London hipsters gave me a ticket, told me silly stories about their lives (and let me tell some about my own life), and using magical hipster force staked out prime real estate in the front row so that Mr. Oldham could sweat on us. I gladly bought the Lady a drink.
More pictures to come once she sends me some (and I sneakily invite her and her friends to SF0!)
Since I have a problem in that I have spent the last 3 years of my life listening exclusively to various incarnations of Mr. Oldham, I began to scream uncontrollably and curse this friend for not telling me sooner. I went to the show anyway, finagled a ticket (from a couple who made me feel quite uncomfortable with their touching) and was able to watch my dear Prince in a small bar that fit maybe 50 people. Who knows why BPB came to Israel, but that is a discussion for another time. (The evening's rendition of John the Baptist was quite heartfelt I thought.) I thought about buying the couple a drink, but well, they were in the middle of something, meaning each other. And Mr. Oldham didn't seem to to need anymore drinks.
The next week, while SF SF0ers solved mysteries in a soaked city, I found myself in distant London where I was taking a break from life in the Holy Land. I was non-chalantly checking a site for concerts in the city that evening when my dear Prince again reared his ugly beautiful head. I quickly jumped on a tube to make the 7:00 pm start time of the sold-out show (that was very odd, the end of drinking at 11 pm).
On the train I found myself sitting across from a young lady that looked (frightingly) surprisingly like a lady-friend of mine in Israel. I stole some awkward glances. We got off at the same stop. I had no idea where I was going and was without ticket. Whereupon I asked her if she knew where the hall was and also explained my predicament. She was quite polite and admitted that she had no clue herself where she was. But luckily for everyone involved, as we talked it up, it became clear that she was meeting up with friends who knew where they were going AND she had an extra ticket.
Yeah!
This second show was less intimate of course but enjoyable as local London hipsters gave me a ticket, told me silly stories about their lives (and let me tell some about my own life), and using magical hipster force staked out prime real estate in the front row so that Mr. Oldham could sweat on us. I gladly bought the Lady a drink.
More pictures to come once she sends me some (and I sneakily invite her and her friends to SF0!)
as we talked it up, it became clear that she was meeting up with friends who knew where they were going AND she had an extra ticket.
Damn Saul! YHWH really is looking down on you chosen people!
I love finding out what magical shit you're up to from SFZero.