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For a few years, since at least the early pandemic but perhaps dating a little earlier, I’ve kept a note in my phone, the start of which you see above. It’s called “Things I will pay top dollar for,” with “top dollar” essentially being the amount I am willing to pay that will not bankrupt me. The list is fairly extensive, and you can’t see the rest of it.

As you may have guessed based on the timing and general tenor of the so far text-heavy image and preceding graf, tonight I get to cross the top item, the very reason for its creation, off of that list.

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Disclosure: I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time around men directly related to each other recently. To that point, in three out of four recent weekends, I was surrounded by brothers, including my own. I’ve always enjoyed feeding off the fraternal vibe, yet I went to a college without Greek life. The camaraderie, the internal knowledge, the handoffs one can only perform with a certain degree of intimacy: this is what gets me.

From back-to-back bachelor parties through, of all things, a Phish festival, the brotherly tone has been a strong presence for me recently. And then, lo and behold: rumors of an Oasis reunion began haunting my phone on a recent Saturday.

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