I came to the event expecting to see Dabbin-Dad run a dab bar like a pro.
That was the plan, anyway.
He had the whole setup looking sharp. Rigs. Tables. Stickers. Merch. The works. For a little while, it actually looked like he had his life together. People came by, asked questions, and Dabbin-Dad was right there acting like a real operator.
Then the goats showed up.
That was the moment everything started to fall apart.
At first, he just looked over at them. Nothing crazy. Just a man noticing livestock. Normal enough.
Then he took a few steps away from the dab bar.
Then a few more.
Then I watched him fully disappear into the goat area like he had been called there by some ancient fuzzy force.
One second he was supposed to be helping patrons. The next second he was kneeling in the grass with a goat in his lap like he had been doing goat therapy his whole life.
And honestly, once he got over there, there was no bringing him back.
I watched him scratch a goat behind the ears while talking like the goat was his therapist.
I watched him forget about the dab bar completely.
I watched a tiny goat climb onto him, and he looked more peaceful than I have ever seen him in my life.
Back at the booth, people kept asking, “Where did Dabbin-Dad go?”
I had no answer.
He was over there with the goats, healing.
At one point, someone came over and said there were people waiting to meet him.
I went looking for him and found him sitting right where I thought he’d be, staring into the distance while a goat tried to eat his snacks.
He looked calm. Deeply calm. The kind of calm you only get when you stop pretending to be responsible.
Then he got dragged back to the booth.
He lasted maybe five minutes.
Then I saw him glance over toward the goats again, and that was it. He was gone. Like a man possessed by farm-based peace.
This happened all day.
Run dab bar.
Pet goat.
Return to dab bar.
Vanquish dab-related duties.
Pet goat again.
By 3:00, I stopped pretending this was under control.
It was not under control.
The dab bar survived somehow. The event kept moving. People still got served. But Dabbin-Dad clearly found the real main attraction, and it had hooves.
The goats were the therapy.
The dab bar was just the side quest.
As we packed up, I watched one last goat walk right up to him like it owned the place. Dabbin-Dad gave it a final head scratch like he was saying goodbye to his life coach.
And that was the whole thing.
I came to watch a dab bar.
I ended up watching a grown man get emotionally reset by tiny goats.
Keep it weird,
