olden rock band

ramblin' man

I spent Friday and Saturday nights sleeping on couches: one at the groom’s place (the night before the wedding), the other at my sister’s. When you’re young, getting the couch is often like winning the lottery – usually, you and your friends are battling over one couch on offer and the rest of the apartment floor. Of course, it was only me involved so no winning ticket was require, but, in case you weren’t aware, couch sleeping isn’t quite as comfy when you’re older.

The entire wedding shindig was top drawer. From rehearsal to reception everything was beautifully planned and managed. As I told my friends, I’ll go a 1,000 miles for a couple of free dinners and four hours of open bar over two nights. Aside from the formal ceremony, the rehearsal dinner stood out as a chance to meet friends and family while enjoying a fantastic meal at Rainbow on Nicollet. For the first time in nearly 20 years, we all had a chance to spend time with each and see how our lives have changed.

About a dozen attendees ended up at the show on Friday night – including the bride/groom – which ended up being another great social event. I’m only guessing, but I suspect that both were ready for some mindless activity that didn’t involve checklists, planning, and worrying. I was pleased to see them get a chance to decompress before the big day. They managed a respectable bedtime while I ended up eating White Castle (not my plan or execution) and gabbing until 4:30am. Fortunately, by 9am everyone was up and about, and in good spirits, for a round of corn pancakes at (my) legendary Maria’s Café. A corn pancake with a few eggs over easy and a dash of cotija cheese can bring anyone back from the depths of the underslept.

After a bit of the reception on Saturday night, I bid farewell and headed over to Anne’s place for the evening and Sunday AM brunch/fast. We caught up over some wine and then hit the bed (or couch). By mid-morning we joined Anne’s comrades for at Whitey’s in NE Minneapolis before I hit the train for the airport.

How was transit, you ask? I did take light rail to and from the airport and the Hiawatha line is really nice: great trains, timely schedule, and the fare – for rush hour times – is a flat $2.25. On the way in I rode up to the Franklin St. station and caught the #2 bus west to the Van Dusen Mansion for the rehearsal. The MTA bus system is adequate, but not great. I never feel like you should have 30-minute bus waits, in the heart of a city, on a weekday. Even with that, the routes are strong and the cost (bus-wise) is about what we pay here in D.C. Anne was going to take me to the airport after breakfast on Sunday until I realized that dropping me off at Target Field (about three blocks from where we were) for the light rail was a much better option: 25 minutes later and I’m checking in at the airport. I’d love to see them expand service from downtown to the western suburbs, but I suspect that’s a pipe dream. (They are building a line between MSP and StP, and I see there’s talk of building a line SW to Eden Prairie.)

The flight back was fine – Delta, and all – and I feel like I’m nearly caught up on sleep; only to ready the entire clan for another wedding up in Vermont this weekend.

circle

I'm off to the Twin Cities tomorrow afternoon. A mere 30 years after meeting my best high school friend, I'm on a plane for his wedding. I don't remember the exact circumstance of our first meeting, but I vaguely recall being in Mr. Choate's Spanish class at Valley View Jr. High School. Eventually, we became four as Jeff, Todd (the other Todd), Soren (groom), and I became fast friends and thrived through high school. Those youthful days of studying hard, air guitar, Foos-ball, the Tubes, road trips, and dreaming of futures are very, very special to me. You never really get past those most powerful moments of relationships. It's easy to recall some of both the great and stupid things we did together. Amongst the four of us, the other three will always seem greater than I...in a good way. I got to take a little piece of each of them with me as I wandered far away and did different things. For the first time in 18 years (?), we'll all be together in one place - I'm a little nervous. Mostly for the worry of discussion and my attempts to tell what I've been up to over that very long period my life. In the end, it'll be a wonderful get together.

And with the celebration comes Slobberbone. To get more specific, Soren and I were college roommates for two years at Iowa. For two years he wandered the cut-out bins of the local records shops. For those years, and beyond, he was always the one who found the great music, brought it home, wrote up top ten lists, and passed on all the legwork that he so enjoyed. Back in the early 2000s he reported on Slobberbone. I can still remember reading his top ten list that year and wondering about this band with the unfortunate name. I've seen them a half-dozen times on two continents and every, single time I drink too many beers, yell at the band, and generally behave as you would at a show by the mighty Slobberbone. Every, single show (even with new friends and wives), made me think of Soren with his cut-out LPs in 1983.

Funny thing. Slobberbone disbanded in about 2005 (?) and I flew to Minneapolis to see the farewell show with Soren and his sister at the 400 Club. Wouldn't you guess, after six years they are back on the wagon and playing at the 7th St. Entry of First Avenue tomorrow night - before the hitchin' ceremony - odds? So, I'll disappear for the weekend - after just coming back. But, rest assured that at some point tomorrow night, maybe around 11p (CDT), we'll be listening to Brent Best and the boys belt out Engine Joe. And we'll be smiling until the clock rolls over.

I once read a set of liner notes about the Gear Daddies (another all-time favorite), that put forth this idea: there are better bands in this World. There are more talented bands in this World. But, I will never love another band quite like I love the Gear Daddies.

For me, that's Slobberbone.

Nothing. Better.

See you on the other side.

wine and roses and shamrocks

On Saturday X and I (I call us the eleven) are heading up into Maryland for a visit with Sue and one St. Patrick. The boys will be off on a visit and you know the first thing two 30-somethings (shhh…) would plan on doing; that’s right, flee across the state line and drink green beer, sleep on someone’s floor, and eventually wend our way back to Virginia. I believe there will be an Irish band and a bar involved.

The last time I planned to drive to another state, sleep in someone else’s house, and a see a band on a calendar holiday, was New Year’s Eve 1983 / 1984. It may well have been events like this that contributed to ending my attempt at college in 1985.

The cast of characters: two of my best friends from high school, Skip (aka CitiesSkip) and Jeff; Jeff’s friend Ben (who was at Cornell College with him), and me.

The trip: Omaha to Bloomington, Illinois.

The rig(s): At first it was a sweet Dodge Omni* that only managed to get us about 45 miles to Avoca, Iowa. At that point we called Skip’s mom (on a pay phone!) and she ferried the family’s Ford LTD station wagon to us at the crappy truck stop in Avoca, gave us the one working vehicle, and STAYED in Avoca until the Omni was either fixed and back on the road or she had it towed back to Omaha. She was a gem.

It was only Skip, Jeff, and I for the first 300-mile leg of the journey across Iowa on I-80 – we were scheduled to pick up Ben in the Quad Cities (Moline, Davenport, Rock Island, and East Moline…if you must know the quads). We set out on such a mission on long December 31st because we were trailing a once great 1980s ska bank, The Uptown Rulers, of whom Skip still has a nearly 25 year-old two tape, live recording that he’s burned to CD. They hailed from the Bloomington-Normal area and were gigging that night in their hometown for the New Year’s Eve bash. We must have seen them dozens of times between 1983 an 1985 when they toured the Big Ten college circuit and stopped in Iowa City five or six times a year.

As was expected during our lives of 1983 the car was stocked with the accoutrements of our days: a cooler full of Mt. Dew, No-Doz, the beat-up stuffed Odie that served as our mascot, tons of Wonder Bread and bologna and cheese, all the Maxell UD-XLII cassette tapes filled with the great bands** of the day, and just enough money to get us there and back…hopefully.

We managed to find Ben in the Quad Cities that afternoon and headed onto Bloomington for the show. Our planning was such that we believed we’d surely come across some other Rulers fans who’d put us up on their floor for the night, and if not, surely four college guys could find somewhere to sleep in a college town. That didn’t happen…and we tried. After the show we decided to drive the 200 miles back to Iowa City where Skip and I had our dorm room at the U. This decision represents that listener eye-rolling moment that happens all too often when we relive questionable, long ago decisions. Don’t fret, nothing really bad happened.

We got in the car in the dark of night, fairly heavy snow had started to fall, but it didn’t look too threatening. Of course, we didn’t put our heads together and think out the whole west to east travel of weather before we started driving west into the storm. We were no more than 20 miles out of Bloomington when we realized our error: this was a big ol’ blizzard and the only way to make it anywhere on the interstate was to get behind the only semi on the road and stay in its wheels tracks. The interstate was basically a whiteout and the snow was blasting down. There were a sum total of two vehicles on the road tha long and lonely two: the LTD wagon and the J.B. Hunt semi. Turning back didn’t seem an option so we simply chugged Dew and popped No Doz. It took five or six hours to just make it back to the Quad Cities where Jeff and Ben were dumped since they were heading back to school from there. The state line had proven the end of the snowstorm; the roads were clear, the sky was sunny (it was already morning), and Skip and I decided to push on the last 60 miles to Iowa City. Skip drove while I rode shotgun trying to keep both of us awake over that final hurdle. We had the windows cracked to allow winter's blast to keep us awake, we had the music turned up loud (no doubt The Tubes taking us home), and everything seemed fine. About 30 miles into this final leg Skip started talking – but not to me...and he certainly wasn’t singing along to Sushi Girl. As one would, I said “Dude. Who are you talking to?”, to which he replies “Jeff.” At this point the 24 hours of no sleep, the Dew, and No Doz had clearly screwed up his neurons. I reminded him that we dropped Jeff off 40 miles ago and his reply was “No. I can see him in the mirror. He's sitting in the back seat.” This is the point where everyone gets to think I’m really smart for having him pull over, giving me the keys, and putting him to sleep in the back of the wagon. He saw him in the mirror? Yikes. This was the very point in our young lives when we swore off the 'Doz.

I got us Iowa City and our dorm where we fell head long into our bunk beds and slept for about 12 hours. We eventually pulled ourselves out of bed for some sandwiches at the Hamburg Inn and a very gentle evening on the Iowa City town before heading back to Omaha the next day.

Why anyone needs to hear this story is beyond me. I was just wondering how it will go this weekend.

I think Sue’ll let us stay, she's like that.

T.


*The very same Dodge Omni that took Skip and I on our first road trip to Iowa City in the fall of 1981 (that was a ‘dear diary’ trip). The same Omni whose front axle was snapped when I slid into a curb on an icy street in Milford, Iowa (Christmas break 1982?) when we were on our way to ‘visit’ Thelma and her friends. As an aside, we (Skip, Jeff, the other Todd, and I) ended up spending the night on the living room floor with MTV playing endlessly until morning. I still get wierded out when I hear that “duh duh-duh duh duh duh-duh” that coming back from a commercial jingle that MTV used to play between actual videos – the astronaut holding the MTV flag on the moon. If you were a teen back then you know EXACTLY what I mean.

**The Tubes, The Cars, REO Speedwagon, maybe some Police, Wang Chung, Culture Club, Thompson Twins, Rick Springfield…you know what I’m talking about.