I went the long way, around the periphery of the music tent. It was much easier than weaving through the rows of folding chairs and picnic blankets set up in the tent by the festival goers. I was carrying two full beers, one in each hand, and concentrating on not spilling their foamy heads over the rims of the white, plastic cups. I didn’t notice the man who started walking next to me until he spoke.
“Did you bike here?” he asked. His hair was silvery white, too distinguished for his young face. The sun reflected off his square-framed glasses.
“Yes, I did.” I answered and kept on walking.
“I thought so – I was mighty impressed when I saw you get off your bike with that dress.”
“Well,” I said finally. “You’ve gotta look good and have fun getting here, right?”
“Sure, sure.” He laughed, stopping briefly as we sized each other up. I noticed his glasses were tinted slightly green. Without saying anything else, I ducked under a display of t-shirts that were hanging like a curtain on the side of the tent. I went to sit back down, drink my beer, enjoy the music and feel thankful that someone noticed.