In the Manic Mind of Turbo (Part Deux)

Location: Hollywood, California. Sunset Blvd. House of Blues. Behind the main floor. Behind the light control panel. Directly in front of the bottom of the stairs of the rear bar…a meter to the right.
He stood there with his arms crossed. Staring at the closed curtain, he appeared to be a living statue. He had on a striped burgundy rugby shirt, corrective lenses, and some braids. Notice that I said that he “had on” some braids. This is just in reference to the fact that it appeared as though this young man actually put on a wave cap that happened to have protruding artificial braids. Artificial not in the sense that his hair looked fake, but rather, artificial in the sense that his hair seemed to be extremely neat. Tooooo neat. The braids ended at the top of the back of his neck. My boy Juggernaut leaned over to me and asked “You good??”
That’s when I noticed that maybe I had been staring at this man’s hair for a noticeably long time. I mean, what would you do if you were at a concert and zero hangtime blocked your view of the stage?
Well, that’s exactly what I did. I stepped aside and told my friend that “everything’s good”.
…A few minutes later, I looked to my left and noticed that the young man had not moved! Notice that I said “a few minutes later” meaning that at least 180 seconds had passed. I immediately turned away, and looked straight ahead at the stage with the facial expression that one would make after receiving a sudden pinch on their arm. That is, minus the unnecessary opening of the mouth.
…I slowly turned to look again and the scene had changed. This time, though his arms were still crossed, he had his head bowed down, seemingly staring at the back of the person’s shoes who was standing indirectly in front of him. So, here I am, observing someone staring at another person as though they were interested in that person’s sole. A fashion mercenary. Perhaps… A focused human. Most likely.
In either case, I turned to face the stage again when a friend of mine bumped into me like “Double! What’s Good??”
I gave a kind smile and told him that “everything is good.”
…So the stage came to life. With this, the braid soldier came to life as well. When the drummer on stage hit the first note, so did the living statue. It seemed as though he was there solely for his imaginary drum set, that is, until Mr. Fiasco started rapping. I have never, I repeat never, seen such an animated mistaken inanimate person!
Simultaneously he played the drums and rapped. With the swinging of his arms came the injury to the short woman standing beside him. She grabbed her head and said “hey!”
You would think that he would have stopped his ghost drum solo to apologize when the woman’s date began to stare at him in disbelief, but, he continued as though nothing had happened. His eyes were wide, his braids were tight – literally!
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Nah but, this story is getting too long, so, have a good day/night and enjoy the video.