To the drunk guy who insisted on taking the mic away from me the other night

I know that you’re obviously doing very well in your life if you can afford to stay at a hotel this nice, and I congratulate you. When the show’s over, you’ll go upstairs to your luxury suite and get in bed next to your hot girlfriend, then wake up tomorrow and do whatever the fuck you want. In a couple days, you’ll jet back to your mansion and go back to making tons and tons of money. Good for you.

When the show’s over for me, on the other hand, I have to pack up all my equipment, squeeze into a pickup with three other guys and drive two hours back to an apartment in the ghetto (that I can barely afford), pick the meat off of a chicken carcass, and then go to bed, alone. You see, I sacrificed everything I had in order to devote my life to music. I left my 6-figure job, my house, my friends, my family, everything.

Being able to rock out on stage once or twice a week with my band is one of the few luxuries I have left. So, you understand why I’m a little reluctant to share it with you.

If, on the other hand, you had been willing to share a little bit of your wealth with me and the band, like by maybe, I don’t know, tipping, that might change my mind.