the only supporter

the only supporter

I went to another concert of my roommate’s band tonight. My second one. I am starting to feel somewhat like a groupie. I really shouldn’t say that. Especially if you consider the band I am touring with. Ok, forget that thought. I am not touring with them. You can’t call it a tour if you never leave your zip code. I don’t even think we have hit the borders of it yet. And there are a lot of different zip codes in LA.

After entering the place where they were playing, I was shocked for a minute or 2. There were some incredibly beautiful girls sitting there, smiling and having drinks. At least 20 of them. For a second, I thought about identifying myself with the band that was about to play. I knew better. And the stairs; leading three stories up, to some miniature band practice room, proved me right. And there I was again. The only fan. Even if I would have told the girls about the band, they could have never heard the music, as the vertical distance between bad music and good girls was very far.Too far.

The lead singer always jokes around about why there are no girls coming to the shows. “Oh Mario, ever since I got married, there is no more girls traveling with the band.”  Very true, I have to give him that. None. Nada. Zip. But where is everybody’s wife then. Why do I have to be the only supporter?