Last Friday, as what felt like half of the city flocked to Williwaw for Showdown’s Sundown Solstice Festival, I found myself sitting in a dark corner of Koot’s. A lesser-known act, George Michael Reborn, had been the cover story that week, so I felt obligated to forgo the dancey beats of Flosstradamus in favor of classic pop covers. It was the first time in a very long time that I have walked into a room and felt out of place.
As a forced extrovert, I’ve developed an ability to adapt to nearly any environment. But this time, I felt like I was wearing a bright orange safety vest bedazzled with obnoxious blinking lights. Looking back, I’m pretty sure my whole vibe was, “What the fuck am I doing here?”