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*As in "Welcome to" and where "Gator Country"
means "Los Angeles"

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post #60
bio: mina

wish list
first post
that week

Favorite Things
· red wine, for the people.
· for donnie's knock at the door
· out for donnie

Category List
barely legal

The Port or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love that Sweet Saxophone
ah, "The Port".

LA valley bar, local watering hole. built over an indian burial ground during a rip in the time/space continuum.

(B2S: just because the parking lot is full and there is a lit neon sign outside of a tipped martini glass does not mean the bar is going to be hip and have good music.) now, i am not a music or scene snob. my favorite bars are dark, small, nowhere/no one places. but The Port was a mix of separate elements that just didn't go together: the garage band of old dudes fronted by an elijah wood lookalike on keyboards, the "sweet saxophone" player in said band, the ankle weight girl on her *knees* on the dance floor like she was waiting for elijah to walk off the stage at her and drop trou, the black vinyl booth that sunshine jen, elanamatic, her man, and i occupied, the swinging bare light bulb over our table like we were at a macabre prom, the punk bartender who sported a mohawk but loved the band (shame on you!), family members (?) [read: late 40s/early 50s, sedentary, expressionless, hardly drinking] watching the band, a cover charge?, our daisy duke waitron, and my favorite moment of the night (well, one of them):

[upon seeing something ridiculous happen re: weird band]

me: "JEN."
jen: (not turning around to look at band because she can see them in a giant mirror) "I KNOW."

and when i say sweet saxophone, i'm quoting. yes, without any sense of irony at all, one of the band members intro'd the sax solo by saying, "let's hear that sweet saxophone!"

wait, saxophone solos still exist?

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