I mean, there are shows on Wednesday, but mostly all your skinny jeans and pompadours are still in line for the airport shuttle come sunset. Friendless and alone in my hotel room, I surveyed my options and decided to stay in and cut myself. Except I needed to eat first. I wandered around the neon-and-ruckus pinball machine of 6th Street and found carne guisado from a street cart. Then I ended up seeing the Bravery. Whether that was a better or worse way to end the night depends on your feelings about goth-gilded synth-rock dance beats, but I was into it.