Imagine you are a journalist in LA. You get an email invite to a gig and you go along, against your better judgement. Welcome to Hanson, live at the Viper Room, last night.
" I'm not quite sure what lured me into going to see Hanson. I saw an e-mail about it, contemplated replying with a not-so-elaborate joke at their expense, and quickly snagged the opportunity without thinking twice.
However, when I called my friend to jokingly present the Hanson show as a concert option for the night she vehemently lurched at it. I began to think twice. Apparently, I was completely unaware of her Hanson phase. I'm pretty sure that if I had known we might not have been friends to begin with.
Regardless, by offering it up I walked straight into a trap. We were going to see Hanson. It was final. I began to frantically rehearse lines in order to justify it to friends and family in the near future, but nothing I came up with really substantiated going to see Hanson..."
"... 10:10pm We plop ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a cluster of underage girls, who clearly have issues with us doing so. I receive multiple blows to the ribcage from the girl standing directly behind me. I turn around and she attempts to play it off as if it were an accident.
10:12pm More blows to the ribcage incite rage. I turn around to explain, in a fatherly-like manner, that elbowing someone isn't conducive to results. If she wants me to move, then she should just ask. We engage in a heated argument, which draws surrounding fans. All of the sudden, I am surrounded by angry Hanson freaks. This is my worst nightmare."And it just gets better from there. Link to LAist. Props to LAist writer Joshua Pressman for braving the hordes.