A little over 18 years ago, in a Steak and Shake (after an ordeal getting to the Olive Garden) in Champaign, Illinois, a boy and girl were chatting while on their first date. The topic turned to music and the two found that they were both into punk music. Then the boy mentioned one of his favorite bands, Zebrahead, and the girl was surprised that this boy from the Chicago suburbs, which she had assumed were pretty vanilla based on 4 months of meeting people from there, knew about a relatively obscure band from SoCal. He was equally shocked that she had heard of them.
Fast forward 18 years and those same two kids went to go see Zebrahead at the Troubadour. Which is remarkable because Zebrahead hardly ever tours in the US, they were playing on a Friday, and we found a babysitter.
Despite being pretty sure I have the flu, I was not going to miss this concert. So we went and had a blast. My ears are ringing and my voice will be gone for a few days. But it was worth it. Nick got a shout-out for wearing an old school Zebrahead shirt (like from 1998).
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