I get into the bar, and am right away confronted by the kind of Södermalm people that just make the whole world seem really uncool. The kind of people I want to run up to and shout 'so what if I like sneakers - they're comfortable! And I wear colors sometimes! Sue me!'. But usually I don't, because they're also about 8 feet tall (and in those crazy biker boot things they wear, probably nearly 9) so they're kind of intimidating.
So I mostly wanted to turn and run away, but I'd come this far so I gritted my teeth and approached the bar. There's a guy and a girl - both have about the same length hair and the same amount of make up and piercings as each other. And his jeans were so tight a doctor could have checked his boy bits for lumps just by eye-balling the jeans, and I realized I have more fat in my right arm than in her entire body so that was great too.
I asked them if they spoke English, and they were like 'of course'. Of course! Well okay, but you probably would have treated me like a a-hole if I just started talking English to you, so I think it's polite to check so don't give me a hard time, okay? I ploughed on.
I described the Rockstar as best I could, and they exchanged looks (way, way) over my head that I didn't need to speak Swedish to know that they were thinking not so complimentary things about this crazy fangirl American. Then they shrugged in that elegant Swedish way and said that it could be about 8 people who play regularly, but there was another open mike night this Thursday which I was welcome to come to. I drew up the last of my pride and courage and thanked them, and said I would see them then. The girl said she couldn't wait. I may be American, but I know sarcasm, you skinny pierced *&^$£^^£.
So anyway. Thursday it is.