More stories from Saturday’s night at the Frog:
When we were toy camera photo wandering earlier in the day we passed by the Red Room which occasionally hosts bands when the bar’s not hosting a shitty club night for chachi dudes and scantily dressed bar tramps. There were a couple of tour busses, an RV, and a van parked around the venue which I thought was strange since the bar’s rated capacity is around 400 people. That’s certainly not the size of crowd to justify that much tour support!
The soundcheck, which we heard through the open doors, revealed a night of heavy metal mayhem headlined by Devil Driver with a mess of other bands on the bill. Snot was one name I remember. So we hung out and took some shots in the alley while the bands made more noise and then we wandered down to the Frog.
The Frog started out fairly chill. Food, much picture taking, and me avoiding liquor like a preacher during prohibition. Finally around 10:30 everyone started heading out but Reilly, Josh, and I stayed around in the hopes the night would get out of hand. I laid down some ground rules (”there will be much toasting and speaking in French!” “Reilly must do a jager shot!”) and ordered a beer. Marion forgot all about our beer order though and when it did show up she had a set of jager shots for us on the house. So Reilly got his jager shot on right away. Then, in order to make me pay some sort of penance for my forcing jager on everyone else the last couple of times I was out, every beer order was accompanied by a jager shot, courtesy of Reilly.
As the night wore on and things began to lose focus, I got a call from T, a friend of mine from work. She was in a state of panic because of the bat she had killed in her house. I took my phone into the bathroom so I could talk in a somewhat quieter area than the bar with Reilly and Josh yelling in French accents. This dude came in shortly after and must’ve assumed I was consoling my girlfriend because he took it upon himself to educate me about women. “They’re all whores!” he would yell at me every time I would say something to T.
Whore-man finally left and then a pack of metalheads from the Red Room show appeared wearing band shirts from the acts we’d heard soundchecking earlier. The stall and urinal were quickly occupied and the other metalhead decided he didn’t want to wait so he climbed onto the sink, kneeled in front of it and firehosed it down with piss. Then, as he staggered off, he began barking with some other metalhead in a plaid lumber jacket and I started to wonder if a fight was going to break out with me in the middle! The buffoons left to take their scrap out to the bar and Josh wandered in to take a piss too. I had to break my call with T momentarily to warn him about the urine-soaked sink which prompted some questioning from T who cut me loose shortly after.
When I got back out to the bar I discovered that the metalheads had begun heating this fight up and were now out on the patio yelling at one another. Eventually they got booted out. Fucking idiots.
After the bar closed, Josh and I abandoned Reilly to head to the Roxy. I’m not sure why we’ve figured this is a good plan at the end of the night, but it’s a terrible idea. Reilly had his wits about him still, for which I blame the lack of jagermeister, and decided to sit out the Roxy adventure. Once Josh and I saw the degenerate pigs in the lineup we also decided to skip it. One must be drunk beyond all reasonable judgment to handle the Roxy on a Saturday night.
This led us to a donair place on Granville and we noticed a poster featuring a prostitute looking girl with overdone makeup advertising Gyros which is some kind of falafel wrap thing. She’s kinda hideous and on closer inspection looks like she might actually be a drag queen. So Josh and I are discussing the manishness of this creature and how the makeup is way over the top like a 70’s porn star when the girl in front of us turned around and said, “oh, you’re talking about the poster. I thought you were talking about me!” Awkward.
