The spot I think of as Martha’s (she cooks most nights) was not playing the game. An exception to be sure, since everywhere else was standing room only.
If Martha’s was not packed by Friday night standards it was still a full house of those just fine with missing out.
I had a glass of Rioja served to me by a young man in his early twenties. As I drank and he tended bar we both sang the words to music that came out before he was born. Nirvana, Hendrix, etc.
Many others did the same: No reason to get excited.
Let the global soundtrack keep score.
Fandom is excellent. And after my Rioja I watched a bit from outside, the big screen at the cocktail bar across the way (Vesper, where I am too old to enter) plenty easy to see. But too cold to watch for long.
How hard can a girl pray that her known status of fan won’t diminish praise? I love this post.