Grizzly Bear? More like Fizzly Bear.

It's okay, Grizzly Bear. I didn't really want to see you anyway, and neither did the roughly 400 or so other eager young faces who came from all over the city to find the line already mincing along 5 city blocks, including down one side of N. 11th St. and up the other, and those who'd already been in line for an hour before being told the park was over capacity. And neither did the two girls behind me who accidentally got into the "VIP" line and after being told so, scratched their heads and asked -- "But I thought it was free!" And neither did the four Magic Hat summer beers I had folded so lovingly into my knitted cowichan sweater and stuffed into my tote bag, to be saved for at-home drinking. And neither did June and Laura with whom I went and bought some jumbo-sized styrofoam cups of "soda" from the Turkey's Nest in McCarren Park, watching a bunch of punks play softball. And neither did the sunset (which isn't really visible in the below photo but whatever). And neither did the guy naked except for a flesh-colored Speedo merrily greeting concertgoers on N. 7th. Actually he probably did.