CONCERT 2

Perhaps it's me. Maybe this does not happen to everyone. I have come to think that maybe, perhaps just maybe, I am a magnet for the Completely Drunk Wasted Superfan. At the Ray Davies show tonight, again RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, there were THREE OF THEM. I looked around. I didn't see any other Completely Drunk Wasted Superfans around to the left or the right or behind me or by the bar or in the balcony. They were just sitting RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, AGAIN.

The first one, a man who looked like the dude from Midnight Oil if that dude was high, American, and a giant asshole, first showed his hand when Ray played "Apeman." He was so utterly thrilled to hear this song that he leapt out of his second-row seat, moved into the aisle and did his rather epileptic version of the Elaine Dance. Ray laughed in the middle of a lyric at him. His buddy in a burgundy sweater kept loudly calling out for songs by DAVE Davies. And the other guy, in a grey sweater, also felt compelled to dance, alone in the aisle to Ray, shaking his ass to the rest of us like a sad rabid hippo.

As it was loud and because I could get away with it, I yelled out all kind of things to these men like YOU TOOL SIT DOWN, and EVERYONE HATES YOU and FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT. It was good therapy for me and I enjoyed it.

When two of them left to get more alcohol, Ray looked down and asked, "Where did those two guys go?" I made the I DON'T KNOW, MAN gesture and laughed.

I looked at my cup of water. I looked at the first Dude's jacket on his seat. I looked at my cup of water. I looked back at the jacket. Water. Jacket. Water. Jacket.

Yup. I did.

It was a great show, btw. Thanks, Ray.