Tuesday, August 8, 2017
It’s a weird way to voluntarily spend a few hours of your weeknight, when you have to get up early the next day, especially if you have a family, work, Netflix, and/or a bed.
The die hards. Deciding, of your own accord, to spend time and money to sit outside for a few hours on a chilly, gray night, hopping a train and disembarking at an industrial wasteland that would not look out of place in the former East Germany.
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I arrive late and there’s no one else out here, other than two security guards, who must have been tasked to clear out the bacon-wrapped hot dog vendors, buskers of questionable quality, beggars, purveyors of affordable bootleg merchandise, ticket scalpers and independent beer salesmen.