a night out

i haven’t written much lately, so here’s my make up. enjoy — i was enthralled tonight with 24 on FOX and immediately after the show, the 10 o’clock news came on with news of terror alerts here in the US. The news gentlemen stood on one half of the screen explaining to the viewers things they need to buy to be prepared for a terrorist attack while on the other half was a large bullseye with the huge words “terror alert” and a red background — all the while insisting it is not meant to frighten the public.

want frightening news? they continued to explain that the US is under the 2nd terror alert after the 9/11 attacks over a year ago, that an attack is more than likely going to happen at the end of this week when some holiday of theirs ends, and it will happen in multiple locations. new terror alert

so my adventures this past weekend. Friday night i ventured to Chapel Hill to see my friend pretzel boy and associates play their 2nd gig at The Cave. i didn’t get any signed CD’s this time, however. maybe that will change soon?

Well, I had never ventured onto Franklin Street before. To those not from here, Franklin Street is the place that’s very close to UNC Chapel Hill, and within about a 2 mile stretch there’s about 999 burger joints, soda shops, bars, clothing stores — whatever. With everything so jam-packed, and the place i’m trying to find really being a cave, I drove up and down all around trying to find The Cave. Never found it. Gave up.

So I parked somewhere at random where I saw a bunch of people, got out and figured I’d find it quicker if I walked. So that I did. Too bad I picked the opposite end of the 2 mile stretch to park on than my destination — and also too bad I started out going the wrong way.

As I walked down Franklin Street, I passed shop after shop, bar after eating joint, groups of people after strange individuals. I saw everyone saying hi to each other, giving high fives to their college buddies, and here I am — 25 years old (luckily I look like i’m 18) — walking alone down Franklin Street.

A small group is ahead of me and I watch them pass by another group of people. A girl standing on the sidewalk with dyed red hair hits one of the passerby’s with her pocketbook. They laugh and continue on. I was soon to follow, and as I passed by, she reached around and slapped me on the ass with her pocketbook. I was about to turn around, but what would I say? I just laughed and continued on until I got to the last stoplight where there’s actually not another bar across the street, so I turned around.

I walk back up Franklin Street looking at the numbers on the buildings trying to establish some sort of pattern so it would help me find my way. And of course, I pass the same lady again. She hits the person in front of me, but she’s too distracted laughing to hit me as I pass by. I was kinda disappointed. Come on, that’s probably the first time a girl has touched my ass in over a year. Don’t laugh. Of course, hindsight: I should have said to her, “ok you slapped mine, now i get to slap yours.” But alas it didn’t occur to me at the moment.

I pass an old man on the street. He says, “spare any change?” I said to him, “no thanks,” and quickly continued walking. I heard him behind me, “no thanks? what the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I continued on. “HEY,” he screamed — forcing the people in front of me to turn around too. I didn’t; just continued on.

Finally, I see ahead the sign for The Cave. I would have never found it driving around. It’s in the basement of some other obscure shop. You have to walk down a crack in between two buildings where they managed to place some steps; you get to the bottom of these steps to a dead end. You immediately have three options: a black door on your left, a black door on your right, and turn around and go back up the steps. With no sign on either door, the only clue I had was the blaring music coming from the left door.

I ventured in. A large thump hit my chest as the music filled out into the city air. I had to duck to enter the door. The place was very dimly lit. I felt like I was walking onto the stage — the door is right beside where the artists play. This place is very small, and with the crowd it gets, it’s even smaller. The ceiling and walls are covered in misshapen plaster. It’s very small, really like a cave. There is a small bar. They serve water, beer and Doritos — that’s it.

I find pretzel boy sitting at a close-by table, along with Berb, Jason, Marsha, Mike, and Sue (in no particular order). I went over to greet them — which took all of about 3 steps — and realized I was blocking the view of the table behind them. So I sat down on the floor and enjoyed … some other band (sorry). But if pretzel boy was right, some of the members from Squirrel Nut Zippers were in it. Three-man band: two acoustics and one bass. I liked the music.

Then it was time for freak boy to jump on, so that he did and played and played. I remembered almost all the songs from years ago when he introduced me to his demo tapes. It was nice to hear them fleshed out with drums and bass and all — and to be heard played live, by a band. But I never pictured freak boy to be in a band. Sorry. Guess that’s like I never pictured myself doing the DJ’ing I’m doing.

Sue actually took the first two pictures on my camera, and Mike the last two. #4 is the best, you can see everyone there. The band played, they ended. After they packed up, we all left so the next band could get up. It was then that I realized most of the people in the cave of The Cave were there to see pretzel freak and friends. The place cleared out quick. John even showed up during the last song, so that made 8 of our group, plus the other band members and quite a few people there too. I bet the next band felt kinda silly getting up there with no audience.

We left and as we climbed the mountain of stairs, there was another elderly man asking for money from all of us. Freak boy said, “I don’t have any money, I’m a musician.” The guy just stood in awe and disunderstandment.

We walked to almost everyone’s car. John parked elsewhere since he came in very late, and I of course didn’t know where I parked. Somehow we managed to take 4 other cars to find my car, and then we had a 5-car caravan to Dimpsey’s house. It’s amazing we all stuck with each other through Chapel Hill and I-40.

We get there, we just kinda strolled on in and met the other people there — some I had seen at The Cave earlier. Took up seating arrangements in the living room and I confessed to Marsha that I felt weird just coming into someone’s house I didn’t know, sitting down and taking a break. But that we did, and we mingled along and looked at Dimpsey’s wonderful tile patio work, admired his recording studio and things of the sort.

Finally we left there and went on home. Late — got home about 1:30 or so. Stayed up on the computer browsing around, checking email and the like. Went to bed. Woke up at about 9:30 in the morn and made peaches and cream oatmeal and commenced to watching the Sat morn cartoons.

Saturday, February 8, 2003 – 2:01 am – so i got in a while ago from seeing a great band, Down By Avalon. Was at The Cave in Chapel Hill, NC. Pretzelboy (Alan) was the front man with acoustic guitar and vocals, and performed wonderfully along with Dimpsey (bass), David (drums), and Jeff (electric).