A few Tuesday nights ago, the Tip had a crowd for this musical jam. I love the upright bass, and I'm happy to see the bass and the bassist return. It's slow right now but it's early. At the pinnacle that past Tuesday, at the crescendo, our almost famous blues star, Vincent Hayes, took the lead and showed the jammers some hot guitar licks and plenty of world class bluesy singing. He lives locally, and he can jump into any act at any microphone through out the city. Well, Brena gigging at the Kirby House might bar him, but it's always a bit pretentious at the Kirby House. On a Friday night, we might have seven, eight or even nine microphones going in the city, with acts gigging from Odd Side Ales to the Elks Club to the Eagles Club. Tonight, it's just the Tip and the Theater Bar fielding musicians; the Theater Bar might have Jazz on the Grand side and a troubadour on the Theater lobby side. But there's a secret to making it through the winter in Grand Haven: don't burn out a bar by drinking there two nights in a row. So last night, I visited the Theater Bar. I enjoyed an exquisite glass of Leese Fitch Pinot Noir. Tonight, that ice cold PBR with ice crystal floating in the foam has plummeted precipitously, and this is strictly a one beer night.
Problem is, two of my townie buddies have spotted me at the bar, and the two routinely wrap up the night at Sporty's or the Highwayman on the eastern side of town, close to the river and the sewage treatment plant. Then they go to the all night diner for the Sheepherder, enough calories from eggs, bacon, sausage, and fried potatoes to add a pound of fat to a waistline if one falls asleep right away. It might be no use to leave early. Last time I slipped out for an early late night snack, his party of four found me at the Rendezvous and they ate right off my plate, picking it clean. Fortunately, they shared their sandwiches and nachos, so I didn't go home hungry. Barbaric as it sounds, it's good to have friends who can share the act of eating. I just wish the eating involved forks and linen tablecloths now and again.
Big Daddy Fox has just waltzed in with his son and armloads of guitars. I think the Downtown Development Authority has this cat on a seven night contract, indefinate in term.
The gang has slipped out back for a smoke. I gave up the tobacco last November when my company gave me the opportunity to pay 120 bucks more to be a smoker or take a biometric screening with a nicotine test swab chewed on behind the cheek and gum. I failed the swab test but still got the better rate and haven't smoked since that last cigarette. That would be two months of the tobacky, and with my blood pressure issues, that's a boon. So I let them have their smoke out back. I was down to the bottom of my pint, and I considered using the opportunity to slip out.
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