Twenty Years Ago in Shockoe Bottom

It seemed like an easy assignment. Saturday night. Leave at 10 p.m. Go to Shockoe Bottom. Pop in the Main Street Grill and see Spike the Dog. Pop in Moondance, see Lil’ Ronnie and the Bluebeats, reportedly recording a live CD on the premises, then finish up at Memphis with Bio Ritmo.
  
Shockoe Bottom Problem #1. We get pulled by the police even before we get there, and he wasn’t as much concerned about the illegal turn on red we made then whether we were sober. “I’m not drunk, I’m just happy,” I plea bargained and it worked because even the police know how rare that is. It also helps to be wearing a stupid hat, a black derby with a big gold foil flower on it.

Shockoe Bottom Problem #2. Park the car. Is this a bus stop? Are the buses still running? Can you park in a bus stop?

Shockoe Bottom Problem #3. Two zillion boys roaming around and all of them are either wearing baseball hats THE CORRECT WAY or they’re not wearing baseball hats at all, which can only mean, DORKS AND YUPPIES.

Shockoe Bottom Problem #4. No place to sit, no place to stand, lines to get in everywhere. Main Street Grill doesn’t even have a bar stool available, so we don’t see Spike the Dog.

Shockoe Bottom Problem #5. Don’t plan to eat a late dinner in the Bottom on Saturday night. You won’t find a table. They are all being held by drinkers for the rest of the night. We skipped Moondance because it was hopelessly packed. We couldn’t find a table at Chetti’s Cow and Clam. Dr. Hector and the Groove Injectors were playing at the Farmer’s Market Inn, so the prospects of a table there were poor. Awful Arthur’s was packed, so we finally found one of those high, round tables where your legs dangle at None Such Place. There are no bands playing there. We get salads, wine and coffee. Then on to Memphis where there is a line down the sidewalk.

I am ready to surrender and give up this night as a hopeless wash, but we spot Vapor Rhino Dean Owen, and where Dean is, can Peter Headley be far behind? These two are like the Batman and Robin of The Scene. No matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, if you are on The Scene and suddenly in distress, Dean and Peter are there. There must be some kind of Scene Signal that goes into the night sky. We have a conference. Peter goes to Bio Ritmo guy Jim Thomson at the door. There’s a negotiation, strings are pulled. While we are thanking Peter and inquiring if there is anything we can pull of his in return, Dean suddenly disappears without a word — as he often does — and Peter, realizing that he is suddenly Dean-less, goes running after him. And so BatDean and Robin of The Scene disappear into the night, once again having kept The Scene safe for truth, justice and newspaper reporting.

Inside we find we don’t want to be inside. It is a total body crush, asparagus in a can. We have to push, shove, pinch and elbow our way to the balcony. There are lines to get into the bathroom like it’s Disney World. In the balcony we meet an information systems major with some very inadequate lines for meeting girls. To Kami, who is loading up her camera for a totally futile effort to get a band photo, he says, “Are you going to take pictures?”

What does it look like?

He asks me if the gold foil flower on my hat is “real.”

You mean real foil?

Then he drops a cigarette ash on my hand and apologizes profusely, hoping it didn’t “burn the hair" off my hand.

What?! Is my hand that hairy that a cigarette ash will turn me into a flaming fireball? Now I am desperately signaling Kami to get us out of here because I must have turned into Gorilla Woman. I have furry paws. I asked this boy where he is from.

“Dinwiddie.”

Ah, well, that explains it. Up here in the big city, they grow hairless women, at least from the wrist down anyway. Seeing Bio Ritmo is impossible from this birdcage and Kami is ready to split. For a tiny thing, she does a linebacker job of kicking, thrusting, shoving, and slamming a path through the crowd, but when we get to the door we hit a massive bottleneck. At Memphis, the band plays right by the front door, so everyone who has a cool spot near the band is going to defend their cool spot to the death, and they think shovers and pushers behind them trying to get out are really trying to take over their cool spot. We just want OUT!!!!!

It is no doubt really good for the band to have this kind of crowd, especially if they are getting the door, or a cut of the door, but what possible fun can it be for the audience? You’re sucking buttons all night.