The club was almost full by the time the group played. They started with trumpet pieces until the sax showed from playing an earlier gig. They played Miles Davis’ All Blue with a Latin twist, which was mighty sweet. The crowd was a mix of regulars, newbies, and a few second-visit folks, who are always appreciated. One older couple, I truly enjoy, showed up. I asked the lady if she's old enough to drink? She got indignant: "I’m 74!" To which, I said: "You’re lying--show me ID, and if I suspect it's fake, we'll have cops here frisking you in no time." She winked and said, "I'd enjoy that." The sax rushed in and literally snagged a solo before helping close the song. A pair of transvestites I hadn't seen for some time filled the doorway. Both are easily 6-foot-plus tall, broad-shouldered, and carry themselves with a practiced gait that unfortunately falls short of feminine. I welcomed them. A few more guests arrived before a too-tall man with long white hair arrived with his long-haired lady friend. They were both dressed in white and looked like house-painter jazz angels. Too-tall was easily 7-feet. It was also nice to see "Doc," who hadn't been at the club for sometime. He's a faithful jazz-loving friend of the club who ventures in with his walker. We happily accommodate his needs. And there was the gentleman in full Union soldier Civil War dress uniform and his attractive mate wearing a period hoop skirt. All in all, a delightfully odd night that I finished at the bar chatting with an incredible oil painter and mural artist. We talked about jazz, literature, and the migration of black musicians from the South. He's the artist who painted a commissioned giant jazz-theme mural on the side of a building in the city to advertise the jazz club.
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