Monday, May 29, 2017

Successful Crash #27-28: Gene Ween at Cactus Cafe

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Posted by teibs On February - 27 - 2010

geneween@ZackTeibloom “Have you ever crashed Cactus Cafe?” Bryn texted me at 3:20 p.m. Thursday. “Nope. Don’t know anything about it.” I texted back. “It may be dicey. Really tiny venue. Show’s sold out” he wrote. I sighed and put it in a way I knew this Hoosier would understand. “I’m Reggie Miller. You’re Rik Smits. Security is Spike Lee. Cactus Cafe is MSG. No worries.”

It turned out we were both Reggie, Spike Lee was too busy brown nosing Kobe and Cactus Cafe is nothing like MSG. Before I lose you on this sports metaphor, I’ll just tell it like it happened. Cactus Cafe is a 150 person theater in UT’s student union in a room that made me feel like I was right back at IU.

I did the old G.T.T.F.V. (Go to the fucking venue) move to see what the security layout was. We were dealing with one Indian woman taking tickets and stamping hands at the door with no back-up. I found a chair in the union, 15 feet from the door, that allowed me to see how the line was moving, where her attention was and tie my shoe. I didn’t have my stamp with me, but I felt I wouldn’t need it. Thankfully the bar is right next to the door and if I could cross that threshold, there would be no one  there to stop me. The guard got distracted for a minute and stood up and I just waltzed right passed her and never looked back.

It most reminded me of the Flight of the Conchords crash in that it was another student building at UT and I just walked right passed the ticket taker with no real plan other than being ballsy. It’s that easy. Bryn did the same move five minutes later and we found ourselves 12 feet from Gene Ween and an acoustic guitar. It’s always that easy.

OK, not always. Friday night presented a challenge. I was waiting for Bryn to get off work, but he was too tired and I had to go it alone. Since I’d waited for him, I missed the big rush of attendees and the door was now closed with absolutely no one to distract the guard.

Thankfully, I brought my stamp with me. I vaguely remembered what the stamp pattern was, but honestly I just blindly stamped my right hand about 40 times in a random pattern with a Pita Pit stamp that is running drastically low on ink. It was barely visible at all. I held my hand up to the guard and told him “I’ve been in already” and he said “hold on, that’s not dark enough.” My heart went into my throat. Was I caught? Was my record about to run to 27-1? Then he said, “You know what, let me re-stamp that for you so no one gives you a hard time if you come in and out again.” Yeah, that just happened. This is getting way too easy.

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