Last night I won free tickets to see Allen Stone at Terminal 5. I was pumped because I had sort of been eying this show for a few weeks now. I’ve loved one of the opening bands, Bad Rabbits, ever since I caught them at Brooklyn’s Afropunk Festival 2 summers ago, and was hoping to catch them again.
Even though it was a little last minute, I definitely wanted to set aside my Netflix plans for the night to hit up this show. The only problem was that I was kind of tired and didn’t think I could muster the energy for another late night.
For this Brooklyn girl, the solution was obvious: don’t stay for the headliner.
Leaving after the opening act is sort of a jerky move. It’s the embodiment of the anti-mainstream mentality that hipsters love so much (though I’m not a hipster, I promise!). But I had to do it. I like to think that it was less out of spite for the mainstream and more out of sheer ignorance of it (because seriously, who is Allen Stone?).
Obnoxious as it is, I sort of feel cool, in a way. Because while Allen Stone was up there on stage at T5 doing his thing, whatever it may be, I was in my pajamas.