Today’s band is made up of two dudes playing a mix of guitar/mandolin/fiddle, and they’re pretty good. One has a legit Charles Manson-style beard going down to his navel. They have a like, five-person fan club here, all of whom are significantly hairier than is likely allowed in a strip club.
There are two other girls here (I assume with the band) -- one is large, with long braids and a long skirt that looks like a tablecloth. The other is sitting by herself, gazing at the lead singer. She’s wearing knee socks, immediately making me wonder if she’s a stripper pregaming her shift.
Do people here think I’m a stripper pregaming my shift?
I order another light beer. Jesus, this stuff goes down like water. Amazing how quickly you forget you’re actually drinking once you get used to real beer.
The bearded dude keeps shouting at A) his other band member, and B) a guy sitting at the bar near us, both of whom are apparently from Sausalito. Their friend is incredibly good looking, in a '70s porn star kind of way. Between that, the facial hair, Braids McGee, and the fact that I’m steadily getting tipsier, I start to feel like I’m in some strange 1974 time warp.
Please, God, let the woman who danced topless for 20 years NOT show up.
Another light beer, please. One of the band members is going to feed the meter. Thankfully, a couple of large, middle-aged white guys have come in -- I was starting to suspect that we were not, in fact, in a strip club.
This folk rock has so much feeling. I consult the “FREE TUNES” postcard on the bar, and learn that they are called Fiddle Dave and the Midnite Farmers. Why is Midnite spelled wrong? Why do references to “fiddle” and “farming” seem extra gross in a strip club? Why is my beer already empty?