The jazz
club feels better tonight in comparison to last night. The jazz group is ready
to play. They respect the music, jazz club, and audience enough to dress nice –
ties and suit jackets. The club fills to a comfortable level. Jesus shows up and I charge him and his cute Mary
Magdalene each a five buck cover. I felt bad afterwards, but I figure if he’s
all-knowing he already knew I’d charge him and that it was done to help keep
jazz alive. If it wasn’t the J-man himself, it was a dang good
impersonator—tall, slender, long-brown hair, beard, and benevolent eyes.
Somewhere in between the quintet’s versions of Miles Davis C.T.A. and Charlie
Parker’s Scrapple from the Apple, the club had its first Sikh visitors--two
couples. None of them wore turbans, but the women wore traditional head
scarves. It was confirmed that they are Sikh because the guys’ names on their
charge plates end with Singh. Singh, from Sanskrit for lion, is an
essential component of every Sikh male’s name. Historically, this was so
ordained by Guru Gobind
Singh on March 30, 1699. So, here we are 313 years later and the
head honcho guru’s name is embossed on Visa cards paying for jazz-loving
followers’ drinks. Pretty cool.
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