For Willow's birthday last evening, I took her to the recording of a fairly widely distributed public radio show that is sometimes recorded here. The headlining artist was one we both like, and the tickets were affordable.
The show started at 7:30, but it took us a bit to get out the door, so we arrived midway through one of the last few artists' sets, and settled in. The show was nice (though nothing earth-shattering), and over (as befitting a taping of a public radio program) soon after 10 pm, so we decided to go have a drink.
Now, in our town, there are generally limited bar choices: college bars predominate, and those that aren't dollar-pitcher places are themselves often over-crowded with anxious local grown-ups. So, often we find ourselves retiring to the bar at the one nice local hotel.
When we got there, the bartender asked us if we had our program tickets, and I thought he meant our actual tickets. We soon found out that this was the location of the after-party for the show.
While the headliner didn't show up, many of the smaller, more local acts did, as did the host, some crew, and some folks obviously connected to the host. It was about as raucous as you'd expect for an after-party for a public radio program. I never once had to raise my voice for Willow to hear me. It was, in fact, one of the few times I've ended up in such a scenario when I didn't feel the urge to chat up the talent. I don't know if it's a sign that I'm no longer starstruck, or that the wattage was fairly dim.
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