A couple
take up residence on the far side of the bar before the music starts. The guy is Bigfoot size and his lady friend has blonde hair with the under-side ends
dyed pink. They order two whiskey old fashions. The few people that are here
need stiff drinks since the fill-in band is dismal. The music reminds me of
really bad CYO dance bands from te 1970’s that played popular songs too slow to
dance to but not slow enough to spend a few minutes with a then 15-year-old
girl’s hot, sweaty body pressed against you. Allegedly they are a blues band,
but they play too many pop covers to lay claim to that label. A lead singer hits
all the right visual notes—she is blonde and wearing a cleavage-displaying red
dress—but her singing is passionless and off tune. They do one song I think
is a country tune. The bartender and I exchange WTF? glances before I step
outside to inspect the sidewalk cracks. It’s a night like this that makes the
good nights all that better.
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