We had a jazz quartet tonight that I had been looking forward to hearing. Jazz guitar, drums, Hammond organ, and tenor sax. No bass. I’m accustomed to seeing a big-honking stand-up on the stage and holding the beat with its heavy-raindrop plumping sound. But it wasn’t missed. The group sounded great. I complimented the guitarist leader during a break, telling him that he’s the “epitome of cool.” He was taken aback a bit and said, “I’ve been called a lot of things, but ‘cool’ has never been among them. In fact, when I was younger, I was the kid getting the wedgie.” I said, “Your y-front is safe here, because you’re definitely cool.” The crowd tonight was modest sized. Among them was a lone wolf who sniffed out the one lone woman in the club. He was a friendly, mostly earnest, chatty guy who seemed to really like the club and the music. By the end of the night, he was very close to being irritating. There was another couple—not the wolf and wolfette I’ve been describing—that were seated in one of the three known Vortexes of Love in the club. The Vortexes of Love are cosmic anomalies where couples who are seated in them are pheromonal-driven to engage in PDA (public display of affection). There are three locations in the club where the magic occurs. This couple was seated in the weakest of the three locations, which is weaker by virtue of the fact that it encompasses a greater span than the other two locations, which are clearly two-seat concentrated vortexes. At some point, with greater observation, it may become clear if we have two overlapping vortexes or maybe it’s a zone. I’ll keep you posted. But for this night, when an out-of-town sit-in tenor was engaged in a Kansas City-style “dual to death” blow off with the quartet’s tenor, their frenetic saxophone interchange became the sound track for the Vortex couple’s passionate eating-face PDA.