Sunday, August 18, 2002

Arms pumped out of a small American car on the expressway as I headed back to the Middling City from shooting white-trasherific Allman Bros.
I (as were the driver & passengers of the small American car) was listening to the ye olde classic rock station with BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY in full throttle. Voices were high as were pumping fists. They had spotted my singing and acknowledged the joint rock moment with aforementioned out-window gesture.
At Allman Bros. I had a tiny window of op to shoot the remaining A.Bro. at organ/keyboards and, thanks to a kindly video guy atop a platform, captured the shaggy rock star. Afterwards me and Boy Colleague Mark drank a few large-scale draft Buds and watched the staggering, tattooed masses until it was near concert end and it was time to beat everybody out onto the roadways.
Back into town headed into a bar reviewing assignment, a joint called Classic Roxx, in the suburbs and reviewed whilst simultaneously enjoying a cocktail and, apparently, the final 10 minutes of the evilness of The Bachelor on t.v. where an ugly man selected one of two finalists to be his maybe future lucky lady. The girl bartender was angry because she had endured ten whole weeks of this ridiculousness for this most, in her words, unsatisfying ending.
Onwards to live music shooting with girlie pals in tow, some celebrity guest bartending, some celbrity guest price fabricating, some celebrity guest schmoozing and shot sipping.
One final weekend thought: the one-armed bartender at another suburban bar that I AOL'd has completely captured my roving imagination. My two companions hadn't noted his missing arm. When we were leaving and I said Wow, did you watch how he changed the bottle pourer with one hand they were perplexed. How do you miss a missing arm? How do you lose a missing arm? His absence throws him off balance and therefore, I duly noted, he pours drinks slightly stronger to compensate.

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