Metallica. Wu-Tang. Theme parks. Senators. Parents. Clients. Verdicts. All in six days. Still think your week was busy?
In seven days, I went from the front row of concerts to the front lines of advocacy – answering calls from injured clients between bass drops, senate strategy sessions, and coasters that defy physics and patience.
I screamed myself hoarse at Metallica, vibed with Wu-Tang, got queasy at Universal, nerded out with fellow trial lawyers, strategized with senators, and stood in front of a roomful of parents navigating the housing labyrinth for their disabled children.
And through it all? I was still on the phone with adjusters. Still drafting emails. Still returning calls from tearful clients who just needed to know someone was fighting for them.
Here’s how it went:
Day One: Enter Sandman, Exit Sanity
Metallica roared. The crowd roared back. Somewhere between Master of Puppets and Sad But True, I reviewed a UM rejection letter under the venue lights and drafted a counter-offer on my phone. Yes, really.
My ears rang from distortion and defense excuses in equal measure.
Both were absurd. Both required a firm response. I gave it.
Day Two: Universal Truths in a Theme Park Line
I previewed Epic Universe and rode enough attractions to question gravity, mortality, and my lunch choices.
But even while floating through space or pretending to be chased by dragons, I kept one hand on my phone. A client’s MRI results came in mid-loop. Another got a settlement offer during the Hogwarts Express. I reviewed it between bites of a $14 churro.
Theme parks teach you about anticipation, disappointment, and long lines – just like insurance companies. But unlike them, I actually follow through.
Day Three: Wu-Tang Is for the Lawyers
Wu-Tang wasn’t just a concert – it was a clinic on voice, power, and narrative control. It was a masterclass in voice, control, and conviction. Each verse hit like a cross-examination: focused, deliberate, unafraid to challenge the room.
As I nodded to Protect Ya Neck, I remembered that it what’s we do for our clients. And we do it in a way that is clear and forceful – like the bassline when C.R.E.A.M. dropped.
Wu-Tang taught me flow. Litigation taught me timing. Both matter when your client’s future is on the line.
RZA reminded us that “the mind is a powerful weapon.”
Day Four: The Trial Lawyer Metaverse
The Florida Justice Association’s annual meeting: trial lawyers sharpening swords, swapping war stories, and hoarding free pens.
I attended seminars, spoke on strategy, and still found time to take a call in a hallway while balancing a half-eaten empanada.
My client didn’t care where I was. They just needed to know they weren’t alone. And they weren’t.
Day Five: Strategizing with Senators
I met with state senators. Real policy, not posturing. We discussed legislative priorities – and I made sure injury victims weren’t just a footnote.
In between discussing statutes, I answered emails about rental car coverage, reviewed a crash report, and helped a client navigate their PIP log. Because while I believe in systemic change, I also believe in calling back today.
Day Six: The Hardest Room to Stand In
I spoke to parents of disabled children about housing options – or the lack thereof.
Their faces told the story: they weren’t looking for inspiration. They were looking for someone who would tell the truth, help them act, and still answer the phone after the applause faded.
I promised I would. Then I followed up on two crash cases from my car in the parking lot.
Epilogue: I Never Logged Off (And That’s the Point)
This week wasn’t a vacation. It was a collision of identities: advocate, artist, policy nerd, mosh pit philosopher, theme park dad, and tireless trial lawyer.
Some people compartmentalize. I don’t. I draft demands in dark arenas. I review MRIs at gate check. I call back clients between CLE panels and coaster rides.
Because real life doesn’t pause for your calendar. And neither does justice.
So if you ever find yourself shouting Metallica lyrics at night and writing closing arguments by morning – you’re not alone.
I’ve got clients to protect. And concerts to get to.
And I don’t plan on slowing down.
Brian Brijbag 