It looks like they’ve got an event coming up at the vintage store we’re shopping - there’s a velvet rope-type-thing, and a bouncer, and somebody is setting up a barbecue under a tent right by the entrance.
As we’re going in, the bouncer stops us, saying, “You know there’s a fee for entering: a fist bump.”
Katie gives him one, and he gives her a big smile, and I give him one, and then ask if he needs a two-fisted bump.
“Nah, one’s fine, I’m not greedy,” he says.
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