Mortified In Illinois

Our friends Brian and Liesa live in Edwardsville, Illinois.

If you live in Missouri, you say that Edwardsville is on the East Side.  If you live in Illinois, you say that Edwardsville is in Southwestern Illinois.

In any event, my buddy Randy and I went over to Edwardsville one Saturday night to join Brian and Liesa for a little pub crawling.

Our first stop was a funky bar.  It was a hangout for old hippies who did not mind a little filth on the floor and on the drinking glasses.  This place was too low-down.

Our second stop was a wine bar.  It was dimly lit by 20-watt bulbs.  This made it hard to read the wine list, which was printed in an elegant 8-point font.  This place was too high-class.

Our third stop was a restaurant with a large bar area.  It was cheery, and had a dance floor with a live band.  This place was just-right.

After Randy, Brian, Liesa and I settled in at a table and got some drinks, the band started playing a very danceable tune.  Liesa and I hit the dance floor.  The dance floor was roomy; I did not understand why there was only one other couple dancing , especially when the music was so infectious. 

Then I noticed something unusual about the other couple: the guy was wearing a carnation.  I thought: gosh, you don’t see many guys wearing carnations these days.

Liesa and I continued dancing, enjoying the music.

Then I noticed that the guy was wearing a tuxedo.  Then I noticed the woman was wearing a wedding dress.  Then it dawned on me why there was only one other couple on the dance floor.  Liesa realized it at the same time I did.

We were mortified.  We stopped dancing, shrank ourselves down to about 6 inches tall, and guiltily scurried off the dance floor.

That was the final stop on our pub crawl in Edwardsville, Illinois.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Mortified In Massachusetts

Lowell, Massachusetts, is an interesting town to visit.  Lowell has canals; Lowell has Nineteenth Century industrial architecture; Lowell has a park dedicated to its native beatnik son, Jack Kerouac.

Lowell was at the top of Charles Dickens’ list of things to see in America when he came on a lecture tour in 1842.

A friend and I went to Lowell because they were having an arts festival.  For the festival, they had flown a 15-year-old girl from the Midwest to play the fiddle and sing bluegrass music.  The concert was free.

I was impressed with the girl’s fiddling and with her singing.  But I was not impressed with her demeanor.  In a very loud voice, I said to my friend sitting on my left: “That girl sings very well, but she needs to learn how to smile”.

Shortly after my comment, the girl made an announcement in between songs.  She was happy to have someone special in the audience: her grandmother.  She pointed to her grandmother --- it was the woman sitting on my right.

Clearly this woman had heard my loud comment about her granddaughter.  I was mortified.   I was very, very quiet for the rest of the concert.

The 15-year-old grew up to be an icon of American music, winning more Grammys than any other female in history.  Her name is Allison Krauss.

Here is a 3-minute music video of Allison, the angelic queen of bluegrass music, singing a duet with Robert Plant, the bad boy of rock-and-roll.  “Gone Gone Gone” is an Everly Brothers’ tune.

In the video, you will see that Allison Krauss has learned to smile.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YVRxAX6fwg

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

The MothUP At Foam

There is a fellow living in New York who fondly remembered story-telling sessions when he was growing up in Georgia.  Back then, people would sit on their porches in the warm Georgia evenings and tell tales.  As they sat there, the porch light would attract moths.

He wanted to re-create those story-telling evenings and invited people to come to his New York apartment and tell tales: the tales must be true life experiences, told without notes.  The time limit is 10 minutes.  He called this event a MothUP.

It became the hottest literary event in New York.  Now MothUps have spread across the country, and we have one in St. Louis. 

Our MothUP is at Foam.  Foam serves drinks with foam on top.  Beer.  And for the non-beer-drinkers, they serve coffee drinks with foam on top.

I was invited to be a speaker at the January MothUP, even though I had never been to a MothUP before.  I arrived a half hour early and found 80 chairs set up, but only 5 people in the audience.  My confidence was high – I could speak to an audience of 5.

However, at performance time, the 80 chairs were full; plus there were 35 people standing.  My confidence began to wane when I saw how big the audience was.  My confidence waned further when I noticed how hip the audience looked.  Then my confidence grew smaller when I realized that I was the only person in the room over the age of 35.

There was an emcee, two sound men, one still cameraman, one video cameraman, and two judges.  The presenters for the evening were not told in what order they would speak.

The first presenter was a crowd favorite.  She was telling a story about exploring a deserted barn on a dark scary night.  The audience was roaring in laughter.  I thought she was excellent---a hard act to follow.

Harder to follow because she was about 28-years-old, and she was talking like a 28-year-old, to an audience with an average age of 28.  I am 67-years-old and talk like I am 67 years old; my confidence disappeared.

I was the fifth presenter.  I stood in front of the packed room at Foam and told about my first night in Kano, Nigeria.  I talked about the impact of seeing a Ninth Century city surrounded by a Twelfth Century wall, a city of mud houses lit mostly by kerosene.  

I talked about how I vowed to feel at home in this utterly exotic place.

The audience sat quietly, sipping their beers and lattes.

I finished my story, describing how I fulfilled my vow.  I left the stage, wondering if anyone in such a young and hip audience would applaud.

They not only applauded, some people shook my hand and patted me on the back.  The judges liked me; they declared me the winner.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com