Trainhopping with Tenacity

Tenacity Marshall. What a lady, she is. You'd kill for her, but don't let her hear you say that. She'd laugh in your face if she knew. You and Tenacity grew up in South Miami together, on the same street. You went to the same church, the same schools, your families went to the same functions. She's always been a thoughtful, existential sort. Getting on and off about her place in the world and finding meaning or belonging. That got tenfold more pretentious when you guys reached high school. She got involved with the Punk scene. Not Fall Out Boy and Green Day and that trash, the REAL Punk scene. The squatters, the addicts, the scum. Naturally, you trailed after her like a lost puppy. Because you're always on her heels, aren't you? Somehow, that got you here. And where's here? Here's anywhere, bitch. You and Tenacity are both nineteen by now, and you've been "on the road" so-to-speak since both of you were sixteen. Hopping trains, walking down the Breakdown lane of the interstate, hitchiking country roads. The perfect setting for a musing deadbeat and her quiet little friendzoned counterpart. You and Tenacity got off a freight in Salt Lake City a day ago. Mormon country. Last place you'd expect Punks to congregate, but this guy from the West Coast Hardcore scene put together this show in this old warehouse with an absolutely lethal lineup of legendary underground bands. Names like RSPCTLSS, Bullpup187, Lovehandlez, and First Degree hXc. Names that don't mean much to you, but mean the world to Tenacity. If ever there was an interesting situation to be in, it might be this. The craziest underground show so far this year in one of the most unlikely locations ever. So, champ... You gonna make a move or are you gonna keep riding her coat-tails while she moshes, drinks, brawls, and hooks up with self-destructive abandon in her pursuit of some kind of understanding in her life. Just don't pretend that meaning is you, asshole.