this is not .38 special.
despite not being able to name a single .38 special song, chuck and i walked downtown for their free concert tonight outside of fond-du-luth casino. fond-du-luth casino is the lawless home of the steaming microwaved meatball baguette sandwich. the radius of the block is humid with the smell of dirty quarters and marlboros.
every .38 special song chuck could think of was actually by loverboy.
i remembered slow-swaying in junior high to some sort of "dah, DUH! needs a second chance" something or other that was probably by .38 special.
a band was playing when we hit the hot spot. and there were people: it looked like a six greyhound buses filled with carnies had been belched out onto superior street. a makeshift dance floor had been cordoned off, and inside a woman performed alone with some moves i recognized from a classic jane fonda workout tape, and infused with an occasional sun salutation. soon after another woman joined her, breaking into jumping jacks.
one by one, people broke away from the idle crowd to dance. it was like watching a charles manson recruiting film, these dancers all wide-eyed and seizuring. not a full set of teeth in the bunch. "all i can smell is peppermint schnapps," chuck whispered. word. if i closed my eyes i could channel the second floor of ireland hall the morning of a tommie-johnnie football game in 1995.
a man in front of me turned around and spit in my eyeball as he exclamed:
"I LOVE THEIR TAPE!"
i started to get the feeling that this wasn't .38 special. this was a warm up band with pretty vanilla stage banter, an acrobatic piano player, and a gaggle of fans who will never know the summery pleasure of corn on the cob. i couldn't stop gawking: at the office workers sitting in their windows guzzling mike's hard lemonade, at the souvenir table with new t'shirts for a vintage band, at chuck who had this look on his face ...
"i have no idea what's going on here," he said.
we left soon after.
this was supposed to be a photo of my new sweatpants