My melancholy continues today. That's cool, since at least it gives me something to write about.
I'm not one to usually laugh at others' misfortune, but...oh, screw it. I enjoy seeing someone getting hit in the nuts by a little kid with a baseball bat as much as the next guy. It's just the American way. That's why I found myself mildly amused when I saw Death Cab for Cutie in Asheville when they were touring in support of the Transatlanticism album. I can mostly take or leave them., but that title track is one for the ages.
I digress though. I'm pretty sure the Orange Peel was still a relatively new venue at the time, and for some reason the band took to the stage while wearing nothing but socks. Ben Gibbard kept yelling about how it was incredibly unprofessional for the club to have waxed the floor prior to the show. He then progressed to slipping and sliding all over the stage, constantly losing his balance. Then somebody got shocked by what they said was an ungrounded microphone, but I'm pretty sure it was just static electricity from not wearing a good set of shoes while playing. Lame.