The venue's loud, but not as crowded as I expected it to be. I pick up my ticket at the entrance kiosk and head up the stairs to the stage. Everyone's just standing around, talking about whatever; I don't really bother to listen. A petite waitress, her dark hair in a knot at her neck, come over and asks me if I want to order a drink. Normally, I think it's pointless to drink at a show- I prefer to actually remember what I saw the next morning- but I shrug and buy a beer from her for the hell of it. She leaves, and I notice that the room is starting to fill up. I take a cursory glance around, trying to eke out faces in the dim lights, wondering if I should move around or risk losing my spot right near the stage. Just then, she appears, a whirlwind of purple afro hair and spearmint gum eased into the air as she exhales.
"Oh fuck, Kiki, you have to check this out!"
She spins me around and directs me through the crowd. The final opening act is beginning to play. I try to focus on their sound- maybe i'll find something enjoyable in it- but it's the same old jangle and guitar that seems to infest every semi-rock band these days. I sigh.
"Okay, okay look at this." I look down at a small piece of paper in her hand. My eyes widen. Oh, I am easily amused.
"Hipster bingo," I qualify.
She bursts out laughing. I guess I'm in on the joke now.
"Yessss," she replies.
I examine the board more closely. All but a few of the boxes are checked off. "Wait- I thought you had to get one row to make bingo...?"
Adjusting her thick frames, bedazzled with multicolor rhinestones, she nods. "Yeah, but that was too easy, I mean, come on. It's a fucking Hold Steady show- they're the patron saints of the Brooklyn rock revival. Hipster heaven. I got Bingo before I even left the fucking lobby."
Can't front on that.
"So anyway, I need a hot Asian male and female. So help me finish."
I stare at her incredulously.
"What?"
"Fuck you."
"Kiki, what did I do?" she ruffles her bangs innocently.
Flinging my arms out at my sides, I shake my head at her pointedly. "Gee, a hot Asian male. What ever are the odds...?"
Understanding registers on her face. "Ohmygod, yeah! YOU!" She moves to mark it off. "But you're not really hipster-y. Hot Asian, sure, but not really Palestinian keffiyeh hipster."
"Ah, fair enough."
"Besides, you're half black. DQ'ed."
"Whaat? No way! If anything, that's a bonus- two minorities for the price of one."
Just then, a spiky haired, fairly tall Asian woman passes us. Milli nods in concession.
"Well played, sir, well played. Now let us enjoy the real show."
Milli threads me back through the crowd, as the opening strikes of The Swish play.
"BROOKLYN! WHAT'S UP?"
~
