It's almost three years now since Sleep closed their 2019 tour in Miami. I had been *really* early so I could grab a poster, and therefore had had my fill of the venue and bolted out shortly after the last note faded into nothingness.
The band's tour bus was out front and the parking lot was off to the side. So I come out through the front entrance and start walking to my car. There's no-one around, everyone's still inside but as I walk I see this dude visibly limping towards me. More slowly than you'd guess, I realized it was Matt Fucking Pike. Not frantically, but definitely with some urgency, I tried to think of something to say, I mean, shit, Matt Pike! Too bad I don't smoke weed, or at least that I didn't have any. But at any rate, nothing occurred. No good under pressure, that's me.
Mostly in the midst of my utter lack of inspiration, I was feeling sorry for the guy, last show of the tour, can't hardly walk, he probably just wants to get on the bus. As I passed him he looked at me, it almost seemed as he was expecting me to say something. But I didn't. Writing about it now, I wonder if I insulted him, coz y'know,--and this understates it--he played very well that night.
So there it was; could've met Matt Pike but didn't. At least I've got my short conversation with Dylan Carlson . . . .
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