Last night, my friend Matt and I went to see our friend's band at a bar in Oklahoma City. I am all about supporting the little guy in the cut throat world of music. That said, I will not be supporting this band if they ever EVER return to this venue. Unless I have a bodyguard and a hazmat suit.
I think somehow, as we drove along I-35, we stumbled upon a wormhole that led us into an alternate redneck universe. I'm from Oklahoma and I've never seen anything like this. Sweet Jesus. We entered and gave our money ($5!?) to a tiny toothless man wearing an over-sized, stained t-shirt with acid washed Levi's. If jockey were a reasonable occupation for a redneck, he'd have been more than qualified. Upon first glance, it became evident that this bar (called simultaneously Touche and Trust Me Too - still in the process of management change) was a former strip club. The pole remained on the mirror encased "stage" and I'm pretty sure a few of the old "dancers" were still hanging around. The bar consisted of some formerly dancing ladies pulling Budweiser out of coolers for I don't know how much, I imagine $.50 or something - I was not about to let anything go near my mouth in this place. You could also drink Mountain Dew, patron beverage of the NASCAR set. We hightailed it out the back door to hang out with the band before their set began. While outside, a man stumbled to his car and announced not to worry, he was just searching for some pills. ?! A woman entered our circle of safety we had created in the parking lot ranting and raving so incoherently it made the late Anna Nicole sound like Bill Clinton.
Back inside, the band began setting up and my eyes began wandering. If C-section scars and perms were contagious, I'd have both. I saw a mullet like no other -beautifully long and curly. The uniform of this group seemed to consist of large t-shirts tucked into very high waisted jeans - not a good look for anyone. I'd had about 20 glasses of water plus wine at dinner, so there was no way I was getting out of peeing. I considered running across the highway to the KFC on the other side, but I decided I was safer inside than out. Finally, I sucked it up and headed toward the ladies room. Thank God for Bikram yoga. Awkward pose saved my life, or at least my lady parts.
I wish some sort of fight would've broken out, but alas, nothing exciting happened. I think because we were all sober out of fear. We took our seats and were treated to a pretty rocking show. I gotta give it to them, they were a very supportive audience. And then we left. Quickly.
Happy St. Patrick's Day! You know where I'll be. At the bar, with my parents! Woohoo!