1 The new Eagles of Death Metal. Album of the year so far. Hits me like great T-Rex.
2. To live long enough to see Steve Jobs obit. IPOD #4 just died—2 months post-warranty. I’ve had all 4 in a 1.5 year span.
3. Sopranos Sunday. I don’t care if they wait another decade before airing again. Hands down the best show ever.
4. Lost. Buddy of mine turned me on to this. I should have him shot. My life does NOT revolve around TV. DAMMIT SAWYER!!!!!!!
5. Knowing that the NBA season is one day closer to being over. Who knew the Knick's awesome patented uglyball of the 90s would lead us into this purgatory. I still can’t decide which day was grayer in NYC. The day Joey Ramone died, or the day Jeff Van Gundy left.
6. Is this where I’m supposed to mention my dog? oh yeah, superficial.
7. Cuz I promised Xmastime I'd turn the lights on again ...
while we're on the subject of Xmastime-- and cuz he keeps mentioning "the incident" from my 5th grade past, I would now like to divulge my favorite Xmastime moment.
It was a cold December night in Asbury Park, NJ. A bunch of us were down to see a Steve Earle show at the Stone Pony. Opening for SE was a scrappy bunch of upstarts known as Marah. Xmastime and a few others had gotten to the show early to catch their set. As it turns out, the rest of us arrived just as they were about to go on. I walk in to see Xmastime holding 8 beers in his "enormous mitts."* The place is sold out and packed to the gills. He says he's going up front. I sit back and watch the bull in china shop. Beers held high, ladeez be damned! As I recall, another such purchase was made during the set.
So the set ends, and those of us who've seen SE realize, it's time to settle in. I'm a huge SE fan, but the 3 plus hour concerts are a real drag. I'd get tired of the friggin Beatles after 3 hours (and Bruce, if you're listenin, you owe me an hour from Giants Stadium a few summers back-- I ain't gotta hear 96 Tears in a friggin concrete swamp bunker). back to the story ...
So Xmastime has pretty much peaked at this point, and it's say 9:45. There's the usual lag between acts and Xmastime's gettin a little antsy.Unbeknownst to anyone, he decides to leave the club and get a little air. He's not taken into consideration the no readmittance policy, and since it's sold out, he can't even buy his way back in.
After a few minutes, everyone in our crew realizes what has happened and is trying to talk to the bouncers, etc to get him back in. It's to no avail. There's no way they're letting him in. The fact that he's a little blotto at this point probably has nothing to do with it. He then proceeds to try and sneak in through various doors.What's great, is that from our vantage point, we can see all the doors as he tries it. It's like a big dopy video game. After a while it comes down to one bouncer who keeps catching him. A member of our party even offers him $$$ to let him in. The bouncer responds, "there is NO WAY that guy's coming in".
We appear to be at an impasse. None of us can leave or we'd suffer the same fate, so we hope that he'll just park himself at the bar next door and wait for us.
Suddenly the lights go down, and the side door to the club opens. In walk Steve Earle and the Dukes. People start applauding. Place is gettin busy. But wait, there have always been 4 members of the band, tonight there are five. Walking directly behind the band in step is Xmastime. He's in sight of the stage. I have no idea what he's going to do when he gets there, but I can't wait. Just as he skirts past the last person, the bouncer catches sight and tosses him out. Unbelievable.
-three hours later
we bolt from club in search of him. hit the bar next store. "the big guy? yeah he was here. asleep on stool for a couple of hours". a dude outside. "yeah, he was sitting on the curb for a while".
ms. rrthur and ML go to the police station where we find out what happened. The Asbury Park police had picked him up curbside. The jail was a bit crowded, so they asked him where he was from. They threw him on an Amtrak train bound for the big city.
-next morning
I call Xmastime, you know, see how he's doing. All of us are at a diner in Asbury having breakfast.
R: How you feeling?
X: Alright, what a show huh?
R: Yeah
X: I don't even remember getting home. Don't remember ML even driving me home.
R: Really. You don't remember anything?
X: Nope
dude was clueless post 9:45. you can't teach that.
*c 1998 Xmastime
[this post was posted by Rrthur]
5 comments:
Did he really go out to get some air? I vaguely remember a couple bouncers tossing him.
There was definitely a quick surge toward the front door. If he was just "getting some air," two or three big burly guys were helping him out.
My trip to the Asbury Park police station with Gina was a story in itself: when we got there we weren't parked near the main entrance, so we had to walk in single file along the side of the building. Just before we reached the building, a young guy rounded the corner and fell in line in front of us. Never one to pass up an opportunity to crack wise, Gina asked, "Did you just get out?" While Gina snickered behind me, I had to endure the dead-eye stare of some stranger who very well may have just got out. Fortunately, he didn't feel we were worth his time. So, we enter the police station only to find that the lobby doubles as a homeless shelter. There were bodies all over the floor. After we do a quick scan for Greg, we approached the police officer behind bullet proof glass (have things gotten that bad that even the police don't feel like they can deal with the public unless they're behind bullet proof glass?). Anyway, the police officer informed us that Greg had been ridden out on a rail. As we were leaving, one of the prone people started making sucking noises (I assumed this was directed at Gina since no guy has ever made noises in my direction before). Sure enough, the guy Gina thought had just got out, was just going in.
i remember the trip in, traveling down in mikes chevy -- xmastime in the back with two women we barely knew, marah groupies hitching a ride. one was sweet, the other a snob from england. after about an hr of her incessant prattle, xmastime turns to the brit, takes a teary-eyed pull from the jack bottle and says: where you from, i detect a midwestern accent. she pauses. chokes out some incoherence. and then continues to prattle on.
Yeah, I remember thinking to myself as we cruised down the GS Parkway, Greg and his chippies swiggin whiskey in the back, "What has my life come to? I'm a grown man! I didn't even do this in high school!"
I did not say, "Did you just get out?". I said, "did you escape?"
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