My Weekend At The Junction
Doug had a gig filling in with a band on Saturday at a club in the tiny town of Perry, Missouri. The club, which is really more of a bar/restaurant, is called "The Junction." It is called this, because it is at the junction of Highways 19 and 54. The place is nothing to write home about, well, maybe it is, but I always go there when given the opportunity. It is sort of a sentimental journey for me, because I spent the majority of my childhood a few towns over from Perry in the town of Madison.
Anyway, the bar always treats the bands really well. The bar provides the band with two hotel rooms. This is great, because Perry is about a two-hour drive from St. Louis. I played there a few times with my old band, Radiogram, and it was always a good time. The Junction is the only bar/restaurant for miles and miles and it is close to Mark Twain Lake, so the bar is guaranteed to be hoppin' on a Saturday night. One is almost always guaranteed to get annoyed by many men looking for some action, as well.
First of all, let me say that I feel sorry for any poor soul who approaches me in a bar, because I am an asshole. The first man to approach the drummer's girlfriend and me was Tom. Tom is one of those guys who lets women know his entire life story within the first sixty seconds of introducing himself, like it is a well-rehearsed monologue. He says, "Hi, I'm Tom. can I buy you a drink? I don't mean any harm. I am just here to have a good time. I'm not looking for anything, I just want some girl to dance with me. I have a wife and kids and I am happily married. You see that table of thirty-five guys over there? They all work for me." Thank you for sharing, Tom. Tom is a harmless guy, but irritating just the same. I told Tom that he did not have to buy me a drink and I was exhausted and was just here to listen to the band. I had to emphasize "listen." Tom left my table and came back periodically to check on me and let me know his intentions, again. Again, Tom was harmless. I was so happy when he found a girl to dance with. I have no problem dancing with a guy in a bar or club. The problem is, a girl gives a guy one or two dances, and the guy isn't happy with that. He thinks he owns you for the rest of eternity. Exuent Tom, Enter "Who Are You Waiting For? Man."
I was sitting there, drinking my beer that my boyfriend bought me, listening to the band, when I felt a prescence next to me. I thought to myself, "If I don't look over, he will go away." All of a sudden, the prescence speaks. "Who are you waiting for?" he says. "Why do you ask?" I say. He says, "You look like you are waiting for someone." My head was swimming with smart-ass answers at this point. I wanted to say that I was waiting for Mr. Right to come along and sweep me off my feet, or that I was waiting for Armegeddon, or something, but I held my tongue. I told myself over and over to be nice. I say, "I am just trying to enjoy my beer and listen to the band." I emphasized "listen" again. He asked me what was wrong with the drummer's girlfriend. I said that she was tired and was also just here to listen to the band. I said that sometimes we just like to go to bars to listen to the band. For fuck sake! He left. When I told Doug about Who Are You Waiting For? Man, he suggested that I carry a corkscrew with me and next time someone asks me something like that to pull out my corkscrew and say that I am looking for someone's forehead to try it on. I guess I'll have to buy another corkscrew.
Soon, along comes, What's Wrong? Man. WWM comes up to me and asks me the one question I cannot stand, "What's wrong? Why aren't you smiling?" Again, I held my tongue. I wanted to tell him that I was trying to listen to the band and that I was tired of irritating men coming up to me and asking stupid flirtatious questions, but instead I said that I was smiling inside. Then I said, "What's wrong with you?" He said that he was from St. Louis and couldn't dance to this music. WWM turned out to be pretty cool. We talked about how we like to dance to House and Techno music. He talked about how he knew all the DJ's from his days of selling exctasy. I told him I was never into that and good for him for quitting.
Then, along came Iron Butterfly Man. IBM sat way to close to me and kept commenting on how good the drummer is. He asked me if I thought the band would play "Innagoddadavida." I said, "Why don't you go up and ask the band yourself?" in the hopes that he would not come back. He came back and sat way too close to me and would not shut up. It only made sense that he is the brother of Who Are You Waiting For Man. The band never played his request. He kept asking me why the band won't play his song. I wanted to say, "They're a live band, not a jukebox, " but held my tongue. I said that they couldn't play the song without an organist. When the band was done for the evening, I got up and left IBM and WAYWFM in a hurry.
I know, one day I will be old and gray and crave the attention, but I prefer to live for today. I would like to apologize for any inappropriate tense-shifts, but I am too lazy to proof read.
By the way, kumquats are awful cute!
Anyway, the bar always treats the bands really well. The bar provides the band with two hotel rooms. This is great, because Perry is about a two-hour drive from St. Louis. I played there a few times with my old band, Radiogram, and it was always a good time. The Junction is the only bar/restaurant for miles and miles and it is close to Mark Twain Lake, so the bar is guaranteed to be hoppin' on a Saturday night. One is almost always guaranteed to get annoyed by many men looking for some action, as well.
First of all, let me say that I feel sorry for any poor soul who approaches me in a bar, because I am an asshole. The first man to approach the drummer's girlfriend and me was Tom. Tom is one of those guys who lets women know his entire life story within the first sixty seconds of introducing himself, like it is a well-rehearsed monologue. He says, "Hi, I'm Tom. can I buy you a drink? I don't mean any harm. I am just here to have a good time. I'm not looking for anything, I just want some girl to dance with me. I have a wife and kids and I am happily married. You see that table of thirty-five guys over there? They all work for me." Thank you for sharing, Tom. Tom is a harmless guy, but irritating just the same. I told Tom that he did not have to buy me a drink and I was exhausted and was just here to listen to the band. I had to emphasize "listen." Tom left my table and came back periodically to check on me and let me know his intentions, again. Again, Tom was harmless. I was so happy when he found a girl to dance with. I have no problem dancing with a guy in a bar or club. The problem is, a girl gives a guy one or two dances, and the guy isn't happy with that. He thinks he owns you for the rest of eternity. Exuent Tom, Enter "Who Are You Waiting For? Man."
I was sitting there, drinking my beer that my boyfriend bought me, listening to the band, when I felt a prescence next to me. I thought to myself, "If I don't look over, he will go away." All of a sudden, the prescence speaks. "Who are you waiting for?" he says. "Why do you ask?" I say. He says, "You look like you are waiting for someone." My head was swimming with smart-ass answers at this point. I wanted to say that I was waiting for Mr. Right to come along and sweep me off my feet, or that I was waiting for Armegeddon, or something, but I held my tongue. I told myself over and over to be nice. I say, "I am just trying to enjoy my beer and listen to the band." I emphasized "listen" again. He asked me what was wrong with the drummer's girlfriend. I said that she was tired and was also just here to listen to the band. I said that sometimes we just like to go to bars to listen to the band. For fuck sake! He left. When I told Doug about Who Are You Waiting For? Man, he suggested that I carry a corkscrew with me and next time someone asks me something like that to pull out my corkscrew and say that I am looking for someone's forehead to try it on. I guess I'll have to buy another corkscrew.
Soon, along comes, What's Wrong? Man. WWM comes up to me and asks me the one question I cannot stand, "What's wrong? Why aren't you smiling?" Again, I held my tongue. I wanted to tell him that I was trying to listen to the band and that I was tired of irritating men coming up to me and asking stupid flirtatious questions, but instead I said that I was smiling inside. Then I said, "What's wrong with you?" He said that he was from St. Louis and couldn't dance to this music. WWM turned out to be pretty cool. We talked about how we like to dance to House and Techno music. He talked about how he knew all the DJ's from his days of selling exctasy. I told him I was never into that and good for him for quitting.
Then, along came Iron Butterfly Man. IBM sat way to close to me and kept commenting on how good the drummer is. He asked me if I thought the band would play "Innagoddadavida." I said, "Why don't you go up and ask the band yourself?" in the hopes that he would not come back. He came back and sat way too close to me and would not shut up. It only made sense that he is the brother of Who Are You Waiting For Man. The band never played his request. He kept asking me why the band won't play his song. I wanted to say, "They're a live band, not a jukebox, " but held my tongue. I said that they couldn't play the song without an organist. When the band was done for the evening, I got up and left IBM and WAYWFM in a hurry.
I know, one day I will be old and gray and crave the attention, but I prefer to live for today. I would like to apologize for any inappropriate tense-shifts, but I am too lazy to proof read.
By the way, kumquats are awful cute!
posted by Jeni @ 5:31 AM
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