04/19/99
Drugged

Just returned from the Flying Saucer for Pint Night with Ward. It was a regular stop on Monday night runs this fall. Ward and I would show up after our respective runs and have a few pints, some nachos and watch Monday Night Football. Since I hurt my foot I haven't been running. I can feel my metabolism slowing back down. Must run more.

They were playing a schizophreic mix of music tonight, too. R and B standards and swing ditties mixed in with Hole and 311. Also, I got carded, which was once annoying and vaguely insulting but is now a huge complement.

Speaking of the hurt foot, Saturday Sonya and I went out for one of our day-long Saturday Shopping Excursions. I knew beforehand that we should be shopping for a dress for Sonya to wear to a wedding we were going to that night. I also knew that my wounded extremity wouldn't be able to withstand the kind of plodding, methodical shopping that Sonya loves.

So I took some painkillers.

I got these painkillers when I went to the doctor. They're non-narcotic, but still quite effective when you take two. I took two and dropped Sonya off at the salon.

I drove across Poplar, making quick stops to pick up dog food and check Blockbuster Music for blank tapes. Then I scooted down the mall to go to Bookstar.

Bookstar is probably Memphis' best bookstore, though Burke's gives it some good competition. Bookstar is somehow affiliated with one of the big book empires (Border's or Barnes and Noble, I forget which) but it's still a terribly cool place. It's in an old movie theater with elegant, art deco bathrooms and they carry every kind of book imaginable. And they have Starbuck's.

So I'm strolling back to the horror section when the drugs hit.

"Ooooooh," I remember saying out loud. A silly grin spread across my face. I started to whistle and worked by way down the aisles, bouncing like a slow-motion pinball.

I got to the horror section, scratched my head and looked for anything new from Poppy Brite. It took me a minute or two, so I dragged a chair up (feeling a bit like Will Smith in Men In Black) and plopped down to peruse the titles. Then I got up, went to the benches by the graphic novels, and looked for new Sandman stuff. I'm whistling all this time, remember, though I try to keep it down when I hear myself.

I wandered off to the computer section. Sat down in the floor and started looking through their Mac books. Dragged the cell phone out of my pocket and called the salon.

"Cole Haysten," Shannon the receptionist said.

"Yeah, this is Harold," I said, "is my wife ready yet?"

Shannon giggled. "not yet. Give her about ten or fifteen minutes, what with drying and all."

"Gotcha," I said, giving the phone the big thumbs us, "just didn't want to be late." I went back to the roll-playing games, grabbed the New Orleans book for that vampire game, and found a big cushy chair to study it in.

This is too cool, I thought to myself, what could be more fun than playing a vampire in New Orleans? I have no idea how to play this game but I bet this would be fun as hell.

Then the cell phone chirped in my pocket and off I went to get Sonya.

Next was a long, leisurely browse through the dress section at Goldsmith's. Normally, this makes me antsy and restless after fifteen minutes or so. Not Saturday! I happily drifted behind Sonya, colorfully commenting on various smart outfits.

Then it was on to the jewelers, Wal-Mart, Eddie Bauer and the Wolfchase Galeria, Memphis' ubermall. Then home, to prepare for the wedding.

You see, one of Sonya's coworkers got married Saturday night, in an affair that promised to be elegant and impressive. It was both.

The wedding itself was in a Catholic church, far in the suburbs of east Memphis. Everyone - guests included - looked terribly sharp, and they had a string quartet for music. I was all the way impressed.

The reception was at a hotel closer in to town, and was equally impressive. A big buffet, open bar, DJ, disco ball, applause for the wedding party. Sonya spoke to the bride, and it's a measure of Sonya's charm and how much people like her that she managed to work into the congratulatory conversation that she'd found some pedal pushers in the day's shopping (Regular readers will remember us looking for pedal pushers in Chicago with little to show for our efforts) and the bride was happy for Sonya. My wife could sell ketchup popsicles to women in white gloves.

Later, as the reception raged around us, Sonya leaned close to me.

"You know," she said, "I realize all this is very nice and swank, but I really want to go to the Hi-Tone and see Dash Rip Rock."

I agreed. We collected Ward and Kathy and were off to Kathy's Midtown retreat to change. We put on our Young People Clothes (the aforementioned pedal pushers along with a black fuzzy sweater for Sonya, wholly unnatural polyester pants and shirt for myself, clunky shoes for all) and were off to the bar, where we met Donna, whom we honestly hadn't seen in months. Sonya, Donna and I found an empty bench seat and caught up on the latest while Kathy and Ward watched the band. Later, Kathy beat me - three times in a row! - at darts, which I used to be half-good at. She whipped the dogshit out of me, though. Then we all went to watch the band.

Dash Rip Rock is good fun, y'all. I recommend them highly. In the second set we saw they managed to squeeze in songs by Hank Williams, Nirvana, Marty Robbins, the Violent Femmes and Creedence Clearwater, along with a hefty dose of originals. The crowd was insane, I might add, breakdancing and swigging from the band's bottle of Jack Daniel's. We left shortly after one, sweaty and exhilarated. I took black and white pictures all night. If they're worth a damn you'll see them here first.

Sunday we were up early, off to Little Rock to see Christie and her new baby. What can I say? Christie will be a fine mom, and Blake (the little one's name) is utterly charming, even by baby standards. Most of the day he slept contentedly, though occasionally he would stretch or spit out his pacifier just to vary his routine. We also visited with Christie's family, telling stories and whatnot. They're good people; Christie's uncle (her mother's sister's husband) once worked with my dad before I was born. At a company party one night while my mom was pregnant with me my dad kept dancing with some other woman. She got a ride home with Loyd (Christie's uncle) and I've been connected with Christie's family in one way or another ever since.

I tell you, I go back a long way with that family.





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