Last night Nicole and I went to see this band in an Irish pub in Wrigleyville. I know what you're thinking. Why would we want to go to an Irish pub in Wrigleyville to see the type of band that would play in an Irish pub in Wrigleyville? Well, this band has one good song that Nicole and I used to play on our radio show, and Nicole is one of their two-hundred MySpace friends, so we decided to go. And we made plans to get drunk and tell the lead singer of this unfamous band that we played his one good song on the radio.
Talking to the lead singer wasn't that exciting, obviously, because I was tipsy, Nicole was drunk and silent, and he was just some dude. But he gave us free CDs, so that was nice.
But let's talk about the real excitement of the night: watching the opening bands.
The first band announced in the middle of their set that they were playing their second show. I think that's the best way to describe what they sounded like; they sounded like they were playing their second show. About seventy percent of the crowd (which was only fifty people) were their friends and family. We were sitting next to the drummer's parents, who filmed their set. When the drummer's mom turned on the camcorder, she said, "Okay, we're ready to ROCK!" Also, there was the awkward moment at the end of the set where the band played "Shitty Pseudo Jam Band Song #8" and two of their friends walked up and waved their lighters in the air. Then a third friend took a picture of them with her phone.
The other twenty-nine percent of the crowd was there for the second band, which was apparent because they were all Asian. I don't mean to be disrespectful here, but I would like to point out that I've never seen a band that is three-fourths Asian. But hey, Asians can rock, too. And by "rock" I mean "bore me." My favorite part of the set was when they had everyone "give it up" for the first band. The lead singer said, "I really loved that they brought back that Talking Heads / Cake feel." I looked over at the dudes from the first band and I don't think they knew who the Talking Heads were.
Before the show, Nicole turned to me and said, "Do you think the opener named their band 'Quarter Mile' because of The Fast and the Furious?" I just stared at her and said, "What the hell are you talking about?" She said, "You know. Vin Deisel says he 'lives his life a quarter mile at a time.'" I told her I didn't know and that I was sad that she did. After a brief period where I questioned our friendship, we saw the Asians start setting up their instruments. Nicole turned to me and said, "See! You know they named their band after The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift!" THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why I'm friends with Nicole.
I should also mention that I had an awkward bathroom experience, which should come as NO surprise. I walked into the men's room to find that there wasn't a urinal. There was a stall, of course. And a large trough. A trough for peeing. I did not use it. Troughs are for feeding, not peeing into. I might as well have peed in the sink.
The last bit of hilarity happened on the way home. Nicole was gloriously drrrunk from her three and a half Sierra Nevadas, and she called her boyfriend to tell him, "This is the first time I've been so drunk since the night I made out with you for the first time!" (Nicole = 100% classy, 100% of the time.) I assumed he expressed concern that she was walking the mean streets of Chicago at night (he's from the Southside and witnesses shootings occasionally) (we had to walk through Boystown; I once overheard a drunk guy say it is the place where women are the most likely to get raped because "they aren't expecting it"), because she said to him, "Don't worry. Tyler is my rape-whistle."
When someone says that about you, you know you're BFFs.