Here's an interesting thing that happened to me Friday night. In moments like that one I remind myself that I'm in Gainesville and it all makes sense. I couldn't imagine experiencing a thing like that in any of the real, grown up cities, but here everyone feels so much more approachable and direct. It all started when I decided to take a friend of mine on his offer and go see his ping pong partner playing with a band at a local bar. Here's another very Gainesville-like thing- everybody I know is in a band or five and nightlife it's our number one industry. The venue was small, yet packed with people.A few weeks ago it was a different landmark in the city's entertainment landscape. Now somebody slapped on some paint and called it something else. It was hot and crowded so we strategically positioned ourselves closed to the venue. And as the night progressed, most people disappeared. It's been a while since I went to a concert of a local band. I didn't recognize any of the faces or even the predominant subculture. Wow, it had to had been a few years for me since I was in a setting like that. And with how the scene has changed I started feeling a bit old again. The main thing about the music I could say is that it was loud, although I didn't mind it too much. My friend tried to buy ear plugs, which the previous incarnation carried, but they didn't have any. We decided to leave a bit early and get some fast food from the joint across the street. A cheat day for me and my diet, it's something I used to do more often in my going out days when a fun night didn't involve watching anything on Netflix. On the way home we saw a strange man carrying a box standing in front of a bar. "Wait for a second"- he said- "Let me give you something". I really didn't want to get anything from a man on the street. I didn't have any cash, and the last time my curiosity was piqued a homeless person tried to sell me an HBO cable filter for twenty dollars. I imagined myself trying to get out of whatever he was about to show me, spending the next few minutes firmly declining while thanking him, and I figured it'd be easier to just avoid the process all together. But it felt like it was already too late for that. I was tired, my friend seemed to really want to know who the strange man was and what was inside the box. As we waited he pulled out two jars of honey. Warm for some reason- the premium, local variety that you see at some coffee shops in the area. The man explained that his son makes money on it and built the brand, while he just wants to give it to people. We took the honey, thanked him and were on why way. But as we went on further we still had our doubts. Isn't this a bit strange how someone randomly gave us jars of honey in the street? What did the man want? Why was it warm? Was it tampered with? Poisoned? You can't help thinking those thoughts, after all someone just gave us something for no apparent reason. But then again, it's such a Gainesville thing to do- he saw us, he had honey, so he gave us honey. And every time I start to think that I'm too old or out of touch to be here I keep reminding myself of those odd incidences. Living in a weird place might not be a bad thing.