Jägerbombs and Satellites

Recently I was lamenting just how rare and damn difficult it is for me to get out and be social (…She’d Want to DO Stuff), and this past weekend was no exception.  I was scheduled to work my part-time job from 11am to 11pm both Saturday and Sunday, so trying to squeeze in an outing was probably going to be pressing my luck.  Not to mention I’m slam broke.

Still… I’ve been seriously jonesing for some social contact, and there were two options for Saturday night if I dared.  One was a surprise party being held for a former co-worker that I hadn’t seen in a while.  The upside was that price of entry was BYOB– I could certainly afford a six pack of beer.  The downside was that the house was a good 30 minutes from where I worked, and in the opposite direction from where I lived.  Given the fact that I’d be getting off work at 11pm after working 12 hours, drive out to the party, then drive all the way back home, get back up and get to work at 11am for another 12… that left a narrow window of party-time before I started seriously hurting my old ass.

Also… the party was being coordinated through Facebook.  My own personal record of trying to get parties to fire off through Facebook has been attrocious.  Let me tell you, if I drove all the way out there and nothing was going on…

Vertigo! My buddies Andrew on guitar (far left) and David on drums (against the wall, right next to him)

The other option was going to see Vertigo playing at Rock Falls Tavern.  I had two friends in the band and had never seen the group in action.  The downside was paying bar prices for booze, and a possible cover charge.  Rock Falls Tavern was only 10 minutes from where I worked, and more or less on the way out to the surprise party, so by the time 11 o’clock rolled around and I had not heard any updates regarding the party, I figured I’d stop by Rock Falls Tavern.  If no one was there I knew that wasn’t related to band I’d grab a beer, watch a few songs, and then go check out the party.

First bit of good news– no cover!  When I got there, turns out that there were a bunch of my friends there, far enough in the back to be able to talk and socialize, happy and surprised to see me.  My friend Al bought me a beer and we chatted and caught up on things while listening to the music.  Then my friend Dan, who was feeling no pain, insisted on buying me something called a “Jägerbomb” shooter.  Using my awesome powers of deduction, I presumed it was some sort of shot that contained that wretched Jägermeister liquor.  I hoped it was mixed with something palatable, but when I drank it it was just as disgusting as I feared.

I found out later a Jägerbomb is Jägermeister mixed with Red Bull… another foul tasting liquid.

Ugh. Disgusting...

Still, the point of a shooter isn’t really its savory taste, so I took my medicine and was grateful for the free booze.  Afterwards Dan leaned in and told me that the only single gal at the table (there were also two married couples) was “interested in you.”  Huh?  I just got there!  I’m not the kind of guy who walks into a bar and turns womens’ heads, so I think he was just trying half-heartedly to be a match-maker since I so rarely get out and about.  I say “half-heartedly” because outside of when we were at the bar taking the Jägerbombs he was hanging all over her.  Still, I took the opportunity to chat with her some at the bar– it doesn’t hurt to exercise those social skills.

A little later Al buys us another round of Jägerbombs.  Strangely enough, the second one doesn’t taste quite as foul… how odd!

After midnight rolls around the two married couples end up leaving — my friends are toasted, but their wives are kind enough to be the designated drivers.  The single gal catches a ride home in one of their cars while Dan stays behind — well I guess she wasn’t very interested in either one of us!  Then shortly thereafter Dan jumps in a taxi to go home.

Irish? Dunno, but she was adorable

Thankfully Vertigo has taken an break for an adorable young woman to get up and sing a traditional Irish song, and I get to chat with David and Andrew.  I used to sing in a band with them years and years ago, and turns out that our base player Jerry is also in the house.  Jerry is totally wasted and having a grand time.  David and Andrew decide that we should have do a band reunion song up on stage before Vertigo begins their encore set.  Considering it’s been 25 years since I’ve fronted a band on stage I tell them no way would I have the courage to do that.  Jerry tells them he’s drunk and he has to leave, and soon afterwards his girlfriend takes him home.

Whew!  Disaster averted.

the mic beckons...

Or… maybe not.  Andrew and David climb up on the stage alone.  Andrew starts playing a few licks, chords I recognize.  Songs that I don’t think Vertigo plays.  Songs that our band, The Hostages used to play.  Andrew smiles and waves at me to get up on stage.  I shake my head.  David shouts at me to come up on stage.  I shout “NO!”  Andew keeps smiling, motioning to the stage with his guitar.  David keeps shouting at me.

I’m sitting there next to Andrew’s wife Vickie, and she leans to me.  “You should get up there and sing a song.”  Andrew’s talking to Vertigo’s base player, presumably to take the absent Jerry’s place.

Crap.  I just know they’re gonna call me out.  If I don’t go up there, I bet they’ll get on the microphone and get the audience to demand I come sing.  That gleam in Andrew’s eye… yep, that’s exactly what he’d do.

Well, shit.

I climb up on stage, my heart pounding in my chest.  The two Red Bulls I drank in the Jägerbombs probably don’t help on that front, but the Jägermeisters and the beer dull the nerves just a bit.

Andrew leans over.  “You still know the words to ‘Keep Your Hands to Yourself’ right?”

Oh yeah… I remember.  And then the lead singer from Vertigo is talking to the crowd.  “We have a special treat.  Andrew and David used to be in a band called the Hostages 20-some years ago.  Yeah, they’re old!  But they’re going to do a song for you so give it up!”  Andrew begins the guitar riff, Dave pounds the drums, the audience is clapping and suddenly I’m singing.  I still know the words pretty well, and don’t think I mess up the lyrics much.  I struggle just a little bit with that high, squeaky “No huggie-no kissie” part, and I screw up the timing of the vocals resuming after the bridge, but I think I do a pretty good job for an old guy who hasn’t performed in 25 years, and the song has always been a crowd pleaser.

Soon it’s over, the crowd hoots and hollers and claps, and I feel that rush of pleasure from performing before I retreat from the stage and let Vertigo go about finishing up their show.

Vertigo, closing down the show

I go get a water from the bar and sit down next to Vickie, sweating.  “You did great!” she shouts, and I thank her for her kind words.  I don’t know if I actually sounded great, but I think I did okay, the musicians sounded superb and it was actually pretty fun.

It’s actually a damn shame that Jerry wasn’t there to make it complete!

I drink another water, and sit a while.  Alas, singing one song did not tranform me into an irresistable rock god of sex appeal, because no women threw their bras or offered to go home with me.

Next time, I’ll see if we can do “Kiss” by Prince.  That should do it…