Bowling Green, Ohio, Easy Street
Saturday, on the way to Columbus, we stopped for gas near the highway. This is what we saw and heard:

  • a leather-vest-and-chaps-wearing motorcycle gang, showing off their bikes, beards, and long braided hair
  • many adolescent cheerleaders
  • one of the bikers announcing each cheerleader as she came up to sing aqbout 45 seconds of karaoke
  • the song stopping suddenly, often mid-verse or mid-chorus, so the next cheerleader could sing
  • the leader of the motorcycle gang thanking all the girls for their singing and tumbling displays
  • the leader of the motorcycle gang announcing that the winner of the grand prize (determined by the volume of the screaming of the other cheerleaders, which we also heard) was the cheerleader who sang "America the Beautiful."

Why not take photographs? Why not take photographs of them with our mugs in the middle, for the best promotional photo ever? Why not record the whole event on audio and/or video tape? Because I am a fool.

Earlier on Saturday we ate what I think was the best random-midwestern-town tour meals ever: the sirloin steak green salad at Cohen & Cooke World Market and Eatery. You think I'm joking. I'm not joking! It was an excellent meal, and add to it a remarkable slice of cheesecake, a friendly and flirtatious waitress, and oh just everything you could ever ask for in anything I have decided to leave me life and move to the gorgeous bar in the back. Take a left before you get to the bathrooms.

No, no, I'm not moving to Bowling Green. If I were forced to choose, I'd actually move to Columbus before I moved to Bowling Green, even though Bowling Green is salad-and-waitress above Columbus. Bowling Green was alright; the people were friendly, the bands were alright, some folks came from far away for the show which is always nice. There was a ten-year high-school reunion going on in the bar we were playing at. That's never happened before, that I can remember. That's a new one. Everyone had nametakes. Tim put one on - I think it said "Desmond Tutu." I wanted to ask someone, "what was the name of that poor kid who died just before graduation?" and wear his/her nametag, but that would be in poor taste and depressing. It would also be funny but that's too much work.

So we played, and we played alright. I think we played for a little while - though there was another band playing after us, so we didn't play as long as we might have played, had circumstances been different. Had there been three, rather than four, bands on the bill. So that was the end of the show, when we finished playing the show. I rallied and tried to latch on to one college girl or another - thinking all the while: I have been writing in the tour journal about this same sad bullshit for so many years now, isn't it time to move on? - but to no avail, so it was Andy again in the Motel 6. Tomorrow to Columbus.

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