It’s the French brunette’s last day, so take one more look. It is as
close as any of us will ever get. Even if she comes back next year, she won’t be just twenty no more. I’ve talked to her, and she is like a little kid. It makes me shudder to think that at her age I had already been on my own for over three years. This broad wouldn’t make it to the corner store and back without mommy and daddy.
I biked back to Days Inn over that networking problem, and solved it with two hours and a headache. There is plainly a gap in my understanding of the networking process, which I find annoying because I’ve read thousands of pages of the available material on the topic. How is it none of it mentioned this problem? Of course, the other explanation is that I am just too dumb to have get it, even though getting it would have been easier than writing about it like this.
There were two other computers in the room which I was able to bring up the IP addresses and correctly guess the missing one. Not good enough, since I would not have known what to do otherwise. The original network setup used static addresses and I had no direct method of discovering what those numbers were. Not good, because I am supposed to be the one who solves such problems.
The hotel paid cash, so it made the 21 mile trip to Guitar Jeff’s place a happier event. At least I know exactly how far it is, and 16 of the miles are on the freeway. The Florida freeway. We got our second practice out of the way and it is hard work. We are no longer skimming over the tunes we already know. Thus, it took three hours to go over 14 songs. That is half the list. That is also about as far as most guitar players ever get.
Jeff plays by remembering how the tune goes, thus he often misses key changes. We have some great material for intros, and I wore my wrists out playing actual lead breaks on the bass using riffs intended for short embellishments. Like most family men, he already has some items he cannot do, like practice on Mondays, anniversaries and May 12, when the other band is booked.
However, in another two or three practices, we will be past the point of no return. Even if we take a dislike to each other, it will be, like marriage, far easier to keep going through the motions. It is also noticeable where he got used to playing some things with his other bands that are not right.
We stopped at a country dance club, all set up for Karaoke. I think the town is called Margate, and the pub owner does a mean Elvis impersonation. He dances on the bar, but it is his bar, and the mayor said he could dance up there. Did I mention he was also the mayor? I think I’ll stick with databases, if only because they make sense.
Let me say this about that. The establishment had some standard name and was full of “country” people. Other types were not represented. Yes, there were white women, around 50%, which makes that the best ratio by far of anything I’ve ever seen in Florida. So what could be so bad about that? Wait, I’m sure I’ll find something.
Okay, the country atmosphere was missing. The women were husband-hunting, I’d say the average age was late thirties. I’m no authority on the local country scene, but it is honestly appalling how little I have in common with these people. I am still young enough to remember when the motive to go to a “dance” was to have fun, which taints my point of view. Two women there hit on me. They had less than fifteen teeth between them.
Another thing, there must be some “School of Fake and Phony Laughing” in the area, with a huge alumni of divorced women, cum laude. There were definitely no single women in that entire club, as in single never-married. Nonetheless, it is a far cleaner atmosphere than average around here, and the potential is there. Budweiser lied to me, for although I drank a couple of beers, the women did not get any better-looking.
You want details, I know. First, I walk in and being a new face, every woman in the place turns to check me out. I step up to the bar, moving an empty bar stool to one side, and order a cold one. As I pick the bottle off the well-used bar, a few drops splatter on the seat. At that moment, purely by coincidence I am sure, a large-bottomed lady appears and it is her seat. She sees the droplets and says, “My seat is wet.”
So I lean down and whisk it off with my forearm, pretending to then lick the fluid off my elbow. Ah, she then says that I am such a gentleman for wiping the beer off her bar stool.
As I walked away I asked, “That was beer?”
Again, nothing in common.
Return Home
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