Give me a name-tag and I’ll hide it. Lanyards. They go in my pocket. Backstage passes…even more cringe. And something with “VIP” on it. FUCK OFF!
But – as you can see – I hold onto this shit. I keep the lanyards along with the ticket-stubs; I haven’t kept every single one, but a few of them. A bunch of them were hanging in my son’s room – they were (sorta) parts of his dress-ups for a while, but weren’t really used. So I’m binning them.
I’ve never really been a fan of CubaDupa – I’m no grinch; I’m real happy for anyone that is interested in it and I guess the “city comes alive”, or whatever. But I just tend to steer clear. But in 2015 I found myself with a VIP pass and that was because I was doing a DJ set as part of it. Good set I reckon, looking back at the tunes. Good fun. But the rest of the event? People littering after eating overpriced street-food and dancing to whatever happens to be happening. No fucking thankyou.
People pushed past me and I them just like normal. Nothing V or I about this P on that day. Or any other.
Stubs is an occasional feature here at Off The Tracks – looking back through the ticket-stub box and remembering how the show went down.