After I was discharged from the hospital, I moved to Los Angeles to live with my parents and go to stroke rehab. I was very lonely. I couldn't drive, which in L.A. is a problem. So I took the bus everywhere, very slow. On one bus ride, a guy with a Mohawk got on. At another stop, another Mohawk. They did not seem to know each other, nor did they pay attention to each other. Then a third Mohawk man got on.
This bus had reached its Mohawk tipping point. I got up and asked one about it.
“It’s a concert,” he said. “The Unseen. They’re really good.”
Ah. Not that I was hip enough or punk enough to know anything about The Unseen. I thanked him, and went back to my seat. Sure enough, a few stops later the Mohawk men alighted to join a similarly attired crowd on the sidewalk.
That night, I felt better.