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I arrive at the club where the White Animals are playing, and can hear them in the background. I'm greeted at the entrance by an interchangeable bouncer/doorman combo.

"Hello. I'm on the guestlist." I give the doorman my name.

"I don't see your name here."

I give the name of the band.

"Band name's not here either."

I protest. "Look, man. I'm on the guestlist, either as an individual or as a band member. Would I lie to you? Why would I lie to you? I don't give a shit about the White Animals. I just want to find the rest of my band, find a place to sleep, then sleep. Would I lie to you? Do I look like I'm lying to you, man? Do I look like I'm from around here? Here I am with my fuckin' wouldn't-be-caught-dead-on-125th-Street-like-this appearance, a fuckin' redbone goth, fer chrissakes, in a suit and vest, with a Joe Strummer Combat fuckin' Rock pompadour mohican, and earrings. Earrings. Do people wear earrings around here? I don't think so. Do they sound like a pissed Brooklyn cabbie? I don't think so. I don't need any more aggravation tonight. I don't. Check your list again."

They feign concern, and take a "look" at the list again. No deal. I can see Fingers inside, in the distance. After about three tries, I get his attention and he comes to the entrance. I play attorney.

"OK, Fing. How'd you get in?"

"We're on the guestlist."

"By band name, or by all of our names?"

"Band name."

"And the name of this band is?"

"Talking Heads."

"Very funny."

He then says the right name. I challenge the bouncer and doorman to have another look at the list, and - how about that? - our name is there. Maybe my thick Romanian accent threw them off. We go in, and I catch the tail end of the set, including a very good "Tobacco Road".

I won't be home for eighteen days, and I won't be out of Alabama for three - I think we go to Huntsville next.

I don't want to be in Alabama.

Disclaimers:

  1. Names, locales, chronologies, etc, may be obfuscated to protect the innocent.
  2. Or maybe not.
  3. A reflex action causes me to open fire whenever I hear "Pretty in Pink"; you have been warned.
  4. Look me in the eye / and tell me that I'm satisfied...

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