Chumpions

Let me begin by saying that Monsters of Folk puts on one hell of a live show.  I went and saw them last Friday night at Stubb’s Barbeque in Austin, TX.  But that wasn’t all I saw…

For those who have never heard of Monster’s of Folk, I pity you.  Bright Eyes, M. Ward, My Morning Jacket, all on one stage ripping the air apart with their virtuosity.  The highlight of the show was certainly “Dear God,” a rhythmic ballad about man’s search for his creator.

During the song, my friend interrupted my contemplative head-bobbing and directed my attention to the balcony at the right of the stage.  “Look at the chick in the purple dress,” he said.  And I did.  She was fat (not obese, just fat enough to be generally repellent) and probably in her middle twenties.  She was turned away from us, making out with some dude, probably imagining he was Conor Oberst.

“What about her?” I asked.

“Just wait for it,” he said.

Then it came.  She turned around and I could see that her remarkably large bust was about to take leave of her dress.  The cups had ridden down obscenely low, so low that I couldn’t believe I wasn’t already seeing nipple (really, three-quarters of those babies were on the loose).  She was jumping up and down to the music; it would happen any moment.  I tried to ignore her, to focus on the band, but it was like averting your eyes from a train wreck.

When at last I looked back, her right boob was out on a mission.  Pressed between her and her man, it looked like a deflated tetherball getting knocked around by a couple of goons.  I told my friend to look again.  He did and then got his wife to look as well.  Soon several people standing around us were staring at this woman’s drunken exploit.  I half expected M. Ward to drop his guitar and make the night complete by saying into his mic, “Is that a nipple?”

No such luck.