Saturday, August 1, 2009

Weirdo Magnet

B and I went to see the Arc Angels the other night at a bar in the casino. The night was pretty fun. We got to the show early (the doors opened up at 6:30, but the show didn't start until 8:00). Well, it turned out that there was an opening act that B wasn't too excited about. So, what to do for a couple of hours? In a casino? Well, gamble of course. I told him to get out his wallet. He did. We played the nickle slots first. I was looking to kill time, not kill our bank account. B kept saying that the nickle slots didn't pay very well. But, with the $5 I put into the machine, I left with $11.30! I felt the spirit of winning shining over me. So, we moved on to the penny slots. With $1 from my winnings, I amused my self on the penny slots for well over 30 minutes. At one point I was up to $4, which meant that I had quadrupled my money! Things were going good. Until my machine stopped ringing and lighting up. And my $4 dwindled down to nothing. Damn! So, B and I put in another $5 and within 20 minutes that was gone too. Damn cheating machines. So, we left the gambling area, dejectedly.
Things learned while playing slot machines:
1. Most people in the casino smoke too much, and some come dangerously close to bumping you with the lit end of the cigarette.
2. People play a whole row of machines at a time. I can't even keep track of what is going on with my own one machine.
3. Too much perfume is being worn to the casino. Is this to ensure that no one sits down right next to you?
4. It is proper procedure to discuss winning/losing statistics with perfect strangers in the bathroom while in separate stalls.
So, we headed over to the bar for the concert. We were able to get right up in front of the stage. The great thing about the Whiskey Roadhouse is that you are able to get right in front of the stage, mere inches away from the band. The bad part is that from that location, you can hear none of the vocals. At all. But, we parked ourselves right in front of Doyle Bramhall II's spot. All the guitar guys around us, including B, were taking pictures of the pedal boards and guitar racks on either side of the stage. All getting dreamy looks in their eyes. I was scanning the crowd for weirdos. This is how I always amuse myself at concerts. I have learned over the years that most of the people that flock to the front of the stage are weirdos. I am certain that B and I are the exception. (We are not weirdos, we are not weirdos).
The band comes out, and having moved from Texas over 10 years ago, I haven't seen these musicians in quite a while. Well, Doyle is hot! I didn't mind standing directly in front of him one little bit.
They really put on a good show. There was some sort of sound problem, that I couldn't hear, but was really pissing Charlie off. Some drum was rattling, or something. At one point during the show, mid-song, Charlie throws a towel at the drum sort of hitting Chris Layton in the process. I thought there was going to be a fight in the middle of the concert. But, there wasn't.

That's Charlie Sexton on guitar and here's Chris Layton on the drums:

Now for the weirdos. I am a magnet for them, so once the show started, all I have to do is turn my head and there they will be. So, I turn my head and look over toward the center of the stage and there is a man that must have been only 5 feet tall dancing his little heart out and behind him stands a tall man wearing purple light up glasses. My photography skill suck, but this is the photo I took, while trying not to be noticed.

Also, directly behind me were a very drunk couple. The male half of this lovely couple kept huffing his beer breath into my hear as he and his drunken woman danced. It was horrifying. At one point during the concert, the drunk woman leaned over to me and said, "he's hot isn't he?" motioning up to Doyle on the stage. I nodded in agreement, quickly leaning away to avoid contact with her beer breath. Then, she leaned forward up to the stage, where Doyle was squatting down to adjust some of his pedals. "CHARLIE, YOU ROCK!" she screams up at him. Dumb drunk ass! Purple glasses informed her that that one is Doyle, and the other one is Charlie. At least he knows who he is watching through his glowing specs.

So, the concert ended and we headed home. I really enjoyed the show. And, B was lucky enough to get to drive out to Davenport the next night to see them again. His friend was opening up for them. Here's some of his pictures. (I need to take some photography classes)

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