The Hanson Brothers

All right I’m going to tell you a story.

Are you familiar with the Hanson brothers? I’m sure you are. They are the 90s answer to female hormones running a little bit too hard. They are proof that regardless of what you look like, if you are on stage and playing an instrument, girls will want in your pants.

Girls can’t handle that. Boys and music; it’s a bad combination. When you throw in “Mmbop,” simple puppy dog affection turns into an obsession where girls throw all of their morals and values to the wind.

My sister, Dre, was one of those teenyboppers. She was hardcore; she went to the concerts, held up signs, and even coined the phrase “Miss You Like Gravy.”

Clever.

If she had the opportunity to actually meet a Hanson brother, who knows what would happen. Maybe she would want to kiss them; maybe she would just try to rip one of their limbs off.

Lets fast-forward about ten years. All the boppers have grown up, found jobs and shed the skin of what they used to be.

But once a bopper, always a bopper.

Although Hanson seemed to have dropped off the earth, the group was still touring and releasing new material. The band members were pretty much living off the remnants of their intense popularity of the 90’s.

Hanson rolled into town about five years ago, when I was about 16 years old. Dre heard about this and absolutely needed to attend this concert. She asked everyone she knew and one after another, none of her former Hanson loving friends wanted to attend this sing-a-long of a concert.

So what did she do, ask her little brother.

“No,” I said.

Simple, plain, and clear. There was no way I was going to be a part of anything related to Hanson.

I felt bad. Not a single person wanted to go with her, and as embarrassing as it is to even want to go to a Hanson concert, it would be insurmountably more embarrassing if she went by her lonesome.

So I agreed to go, mostly out of pity. She sweetened the deal with a fully paid ticket and a free dinner.

While in line, people asked me why I was there. I looked completely out of place and I explained to them what I have just explained to you. Another man, looking roughly 20, asked me if I had lost a bet and this was my consequence.

“Nope.”

I took the whole evening with good spirit; it was like Christmas for Dre, maybe even better. I sipped my $5 Coca Cola and Dre stood off to the side and Hanson finally came on stage.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Dre said.

I assumed that Hanson would close the set with “Mmbop,” but not so. After I heard that song I was ready to leave, but they continued to play for close to three hours.

That’s three hours of Hanson I stood through. My patience was being tested.

Dre sang along to almost every song with a wide grin on her face. She was reliving her glory days. I’ve never seen her so happy, hopping up and down clapping her hands like she had just won the lottery.

I smiled. She would turn around and look at me every so often and shout, “you love it, you love it!”

I nodded, and thought about how I would bring this story up on the day of her wedding.

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