Sunday, September 6, 2009


Last Friday night April & I ventured to Columbia Street West to watch a pair of our local favorites, Teays Vein & Sirface. I made a successful fool out of myself, dancing recklessly and chatting randomly, as per my usual. April shakes her head and laughs, and says the dance floor feels naked when I take my inevitable potty breaks.

In true sportsmanship fashion, there were many other members of various local bands mingling about for support & good times. I ran into a younger gent that I knew from a particular band so I struck up a conversation. He said I looked familiar & asked my name, so I told him. Immediately he doubled over laughing; saying he remembers exactly who I am. He informed me that nearly 2 years prior I had shot him down when he tried to get my number from that same bar on the front patio. Wow. He remembered that shit? He said he tried and tried to get my digits that night but I kept laughing and walking away saying, "not tonight hon." Yep. That's exactly what I used to do. Amazing.

Do I really make such an impact on people? 2 years after a drunken night rejection? (He was drunk, I was sober and working, which makes it even more amazing that he recalled any of it.) Did I mention 2 years? Some where in the neighborhood of 24 MONTHS. I'm not talking like last weekend, or a few weeks ago. That just blows my mind.

On top of that, I recognized the guy who caught me in a open-mouth-insert-foot situation once upon a time **like that ever so rare** Let's travel back to my waitressing days, probably around the year and half ago mark...

As I passed by a table with two gents, one calls to me to ask if I had ever heard of the band V****. I stopped mid stride, turned, to the table, and asked, "Why, are you friends of theirs?" - to which both shook their head nope. My loose lips blabbered, "Worst crap I've ever heard in my LIFE, don't know how they ever got a gig anywhere, neither of the two female vocalist should ever try to utter a note again, and their "band" had no harmony and played like shit together."

One guy nearly rolls out of his chair laughing, the other tells me he's the bass player.
I'm honestly not sure whether his face or mine turned the deepest shade of crimson, but I'm sure it was a pair. Lessening my shame, I find out that Mr Bass Player had quit the week before. Still a hard pill to swallow that I had so openly & ruthlessly just bashed his playing.

Fast forward back to this past Friday night, I walked past Mr Bass Player & before I put the past together with the present, I smiled and said, "Hey, I remember you..." It was at that very moment that the words slipped through my lips that the past conversations came into clear view ... while I stood there speechless once again, making myself the fool. He chuckled, saying yep, he remembered too.

Pictured: Sirface @ Columbia Street West 9/04/09.

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