This weekend, Bridgette and I were walking in Uptown, looking for a place to eat. As we passed a coffee shop, I spotted a group of unshaven, 30-something hipsters sitting around a table near the window. There was something familiar about these guys, and as we got closer I tried to figure out why their faces were registering with me. Did I know them in high school? Somebody’s older brother that I knew growing up?
Finally, as we passed in front of them, it hit me. It was Jars of Clay, sitting around drinking coffee in Uptown. I offered a meek, “Hey, it’s Jars of Clay,” and a wave, and they smiled and waved back in return.
Moments later, as Bridgette and I were eating dinner, I sat and lamented the lost opportunities I had from this chance encounter. Instead of gaping open-mouthed like an idiot, I could have taken more decisive action.
I could have fulfilled my long-stated goal of straddling a member of a popular Christian rock group in public.
I might have asked them if they had ever heard of me.
I could have welcomed them to Minnesota by singing our state song, “Minnesota, Hail to Thee”, all the while maintaining eye contact with lead singer Dan Haseltine.
I could have suggested that they record a side project of songs about Hinduism.
I could have introduced them to Leon McDowell, an area homeless man of some repute. They could have done drugs with him, because Leon tells some crazy stories when he’s wasted! (ask him about the time his fingers were pulled off by a corn thresher)
I might have suggested that the next time they win a Dove award, they should pour gasoline on it and light it on fire during their acceptance speech. They could then remove their shirts and dance around it, screaming blasphemies, thus ending the Dove Awards forever (hopefully).
Alas, I did none of these. My dopey wave of recognition will have to suffice. Maybe I can pull one of these off the next time I run into Caedmon’s Call.