"2-1-5!"

Dale is off to Key West for the next week, so this blog is going to take on a slightly different tone in his absence. A friend of mine is seeing the Roots tonight at 9:30 and our discussion reminded me of a story...

Please remember that I grew up outside of Philly and went to school in St. Louis. The Roots are from Philly, and it remains their most stalwart fan base. Things Fall Apart was released during my junior year of HS, and it is still one of my favorite hip-hop albums.

Anyway, a few weeks into my freshman year, my school announced that the Roots would be performing at our biggest party of the semester. I hyped them up to anyone and everyone who would listen. Most people had never heard of them, but me and a friend of mine from HS knew what a great show it would be.

The day of the concert is a huge party. My school had a liberal drinking policy, even drinking in all-freshman dorms is perfectly allowed. My friend A and I arrived early to get nice and close to the stage in anticipation of the Roots. Fortunately, we were front row, dead center.

You have to realize that I have a small bladder, and after drinking quite a bit, it was only a matter of time before I was going to have to answer nature's call. By the time I realized that this was the case, a crowd had formed and there was no way I was going to give up my prized real estate...

Finally, the Roots came on stage, and A and I immediately started screaming "2-1-5!" the Philadelphia area code, so that everyone would know that we were bigger and cooler fans than anyone else. We got a slight nod from Black Thought, the main lyricist. It was one of the greatest performances I've seen.

However, I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and despearate to find a way to relieve myself. Once the Roots came on stage, there was barely room to move, let alone leave and come back. The stage was elevated, and there was a gap between the crowd and the stage. On a ledge in front of us, there were some Coke cans. I decided they were my only hope. Security was walking around, but I discreetly emptied the cans and told A what I was doing. I instructed him to shield me, and I turned towards his back as best I could. I didn't want to turn completely around for obvious reasons. I thought I was safe. I managed to avoid the wandering eyes of the security guards, but I looked up and as the Roots were between songs, I see Black Thought, mic in hand, pointing at me saying, "Yo, that cat is takin' a piss!"

I nearly shat myself. I stopped, mid stream and zipped up my pants. Everyone immediately around me turned to look. No one saw anything bad, but my guilt was blatantly obvious. There was no room to turn or leave anywhere, so I just had to stand there, avoiding the eyes of my new peers, Security and the band by staring at the floor.

Once the next song started, I was able to relax; I was no longer the center of attention. Even with the public shaming, it was still one of the best concerts I've ever seen...