Okay. Maybe I don't hate the 9:30 Club. Maybe I just hate those two lumbering boy-men, those big boys with scraggly beards and fuzzy hair and heavy-rimmed glasses who were trying to get around me the last time I was at the 9:30 Club. I didn't know I was blocking their way. I didn't know until I heard a, "Umm...excuse me...ma'am."