We made it home with enough time for me to drive down to Detroit and secure myself a seat at the bar in the Cafe. When I arrived, the fest had already started and I could hear a band playing upstairs in the Magic Stick. Last year, all of the acts I wanted to see were downstairs in the complex, either on the stage set up above the lanes of the Garden Bowl or right inside the doorway beneath the stairs. I knew that two stages were set up in the Stick, and I laughed at the idea of watching the crowd shift from one to the other between sets. On this particular night, I was more interested in downing some cocktails, and I had really only come to see one band: Bars of Gold.
They weren't the first to play, but I sat through a set by Darling Imperial (who weren't anything I would've gone out of my way to listen to) before moving up to the stage. I had seen Bars of Gold twice before. First at the WAB, which does not serve well as a venue but provided enough of an experience that I promised to see them again every time they play nearby. My second opportunity came earlier this summer when they opened for Child Bite at The Magic Bag. Their show Friday was the best yet, an entrancing performance that rang with an organic energy I haven't heard since Desaparecidos; the closest thing to reviving what must've been the beautiful chaos of Revolution Summer in Washington, D.C., 1985.
When I pulled into my driveway after midnight, I saw someone standing outside my front door. Imaging it to be one of my roommate's friends outside smoking, I was shocked to see a lady with white hair carrying a gas can. One of my roommates was talking to her from behind the screen door, and when she explained that she needed a hand getting to the alley so she could put gas in her car, I handed him the record I had just bought and asked her to lead the way. She stumbled and slurred her way to the alley, which was completely empty. She turned to me and wanted to know if it was I or my roommate who was "the grandson". When I asked her what she meant, all she had to say was the first name of the lady whose house I was now living in. The implications of what a severe amount of alcohol had led her to think barely crossed my mind as I realized I needed to get this lady home. I asked her to tell me her address, and it turned out to be a couple doors down from me. She was barely able to walk straight, so I stiffly held out my arm and led her back. I set the gas can on the ground outside where she claimed to live and told her that I was going home. Good deed or not, I feared I may have finally found the ghost that so many of my friends have speculated haunts my house. Turns out she's not dead, but a family friend still living down the street.
Saturday I woke up earlier than I would on a weekday to go golfing with a group of coworkers. We played at a course almost an hour away in Washington, Michigan. I took about every wrong turn I could trying to get there, but made it just in time to tee off. Thankfully we were playing best ball, so the half dozen I lost didn't affect our team score, and about halfway through I re-found my swing which I had developed from years of golfing growing up. At the end of the day I was happy to have hit a decent number of solid shots. Oh yeah, and our team won.
Once back home I cooked myself some lunch, waiting to see what the evening would turn into. Dreary weather lessened the prospect of either a late bike club ride or trying out the new grill. My roommates went up to Royal Oak with some friends and I tagged along. They sat down to play a Monopoly drinking game, but I had other plans. My friends in the band Forget had invited me to go Dream Cruise busking. They asked me to bring an instrument I did not know how to play so we could walk around downtown Ferndale making silly noises for everyone's amusement. In addition to the mandolin which I brought, I got a chance to "play" a trombone and a violin. We spent a good fifteen minutes outside of Boogie Fever where several people waiting in line took pictures of us. We played right up the stairs of the WAB and sat down for a celebratory drink. I was sad that I had to return to Royal Oak to meet up with my roommates, but so glad that I had done something my life had been missing. It was maybe the most fun I'd had in years. Without the Dream Cruise, an opportunity like that wouldn't have been possible. That's enough of a reason for me to look forward to this time of summer next year. Maybe I can try my hand at that toy accordion.
way to go! man! :-) I applaud you for thinking "outside the box" and trying something completely foreign to you...! :>
ReplyDeleteomg ray, i've lived here 7 years. remind me to get you up to speed on our street (if you dare).
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