The Johnny Appleseed of Music

2:45 a.m:

A tall, slender guy in his late 20s or so comes in with music blaring so loud from his backpack he is oblivious to my “Hey, how are you?” greeting. He walks up and down the aisles moving rhythmically to the beat (Tame Impala, “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards.”)  It’s not a bad beat.

He picks out a bottle of honey green Honest Tea and a small box of Nabisco Garden Herb Triscuits then sort of dances his way to the counter to pay for them.

ME: “You like to take your party with you, hey?”  
DANCING MAN: “Hell yeah! Good music should be shared!”
ME: “You’re like the Johnny Appleseed of good music!”
DANCING MAN: “Damn right I am!”

As he leaves I watch him dance his way across the brightly lit parking lot, headed west and into the dark.