SHARING THE SHOWS
Week 12 of classes have come to an end. At the beginning of every semester, I start out as Jaime Escalante from Stand and Deliver; by the end, I’m a male Liz Halsey from Bad Teacher. Not literally, of course, but my educator friends get it.
It goes without saying that I was fixin’ for some Allmans. After dinner out in Virginia Beach with Sarah, Mark, Sandy, and Shannon, Maggie and I headed to Hoss’s Deli, literally a five-minute drive from where I live. Note: Hoss’s was the first venue in Hampton Roads at which I ever saw a show. It was where I met Mark and Gary for the first time; thanks, Dave, for twisting my arm to go. That show was Skydog, and they returned there this evening. A challenge of Hoss’s is the parking situation; we usually park behind the shopping plaza across the street, and even that can fill up. Fortunately, Maggie and I found the last spot there before heading in. Another challenge is going through the gauntlet of outstretched pool cues as the patrons play pool. Fortunately, neither of us got nailed. We got in during the “Black Hearted Woman” opener, during which I was cutting up that dance floor like a knife to butter. We said a quick to hello to Dean, his friend Jay, and his friend Nancy (I think that was her name; Dean, correct me if I’m wrong) on one table; on the other sat Beth and TJ. “Midnight Rider,” my favorite ABB tune, was next, followed by a slow blues jam I couldn’t make out. I noted that Hoss’s is the personification of a dive bar. I don’t drink, but I love the mixture of bikers and regular Jacks and Jills that populate the area. And at an Allmans show, you add a few hippie types, and you have quite the interesting mix. The singer wished a lady named Clay a happy 70th birthday, and Maggie said, “I hope I’m like that at 70.” Amen, Maggie, Amen. Four more of my favs were next: “Every Hungry Woman,” “Trouble More,” “Statesboro Blues,” and “Stand Back.” During the latter, I found an appointment card for a chiropractor. I hope the person remembers is all I can say. “One Way Out” and “Whipping Post” closed the first set, and I started thinking that a cool sequence for a TV show or movie could consist of someone going to a job he/she hates, and “Whipping Post” could play on the soundtrack. I’m sure it’s been done. During setbreak, rap music blared over the speaker, and Dean, Maggie, and I talked professional football (namely, the pitiful performances of my Giants and Dean’s Redskins), college football, and some past and upcoming shows. Dean, I highly encourage you to join us at Dark Star Orchestra in two weeks. Jay observed the singer and guitarist were arguing over some technical issue related to the performance (“two type A personalities clashing,” he observed). Sounds like academe. The second set graced us with more room to dance. “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More” opened the set, followed by a tune none of us could identify. The band slowed down with “Please Call Home,” and a monster “Mountain Jam.” The classic “Jessica” was next, and then “Southbound.” The crowd thinned out, but the remaining dancers were flailing pretty wildly, especially the drunk couple that kept bumping into me. After “Southbound,” the man apologized, saying, “My girl’s 15 years younger than me. She’s all over the place!” All good, dude. That’s a common show hazard. “One Way Out” got pretty spacey, and at that point, I was drained. It was 1:07, and I wanted to tough it out until 1:30, but when Maggie planted the idea of going home in my head, I was powerless. Because I’ve been getting up at 5:30 every morning for the past three months, I can’t sleep past that time most days, and this morning was no exception, so I’m pretty wiped out. Was it worth it? Hell yeah. I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.
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