Support your local theater
So my wife and I are at the Paul Delay 5 concert at the Cascade Theater on Saturday, right?
First off, I’ve got to get this off my chest: For all of you people who cry about no culture and nothing to do in the north state, Paul Delay is one of the best harmonica blues guys around; his band is the toast of Portland. Surly, there are more than 250 people interested in hearing so kick-ass blues.
Yes, the Cascade sold 250 tickets. That’s it. Tickets were $18 and $24, which is hardly extravagant. Get out and support the Cascade!
Next, we’re sitting in the third row – best seats we’ve ever had for an event at the Cascade – and a couple joins us after the warm-up band had started (which is beyond rude).
Then this beer-barreled fat man and his bottle-blonde wife (both absolutely fucking reeked of cigarette smoke) start talking – over the band. People all around us start to stare the guy down – and this guy’s gravelly voice fucking carried in the Cascade.
He pays no heed whatsoever.
Finally, I looked around my wife and caught bottle-blonde’s attention – and cut her a look the said, “Shut the fuck up right now.”
She apologized and smacked her husband. Still, they never did quite shut up.
But it did get better. At he break between bands, they went out for a few puffs; when they came back in (again, late HELLO), beer-barrel polka sat closer to us, sending his voice the other way.
Before Delay had a chance to sing is final song – and the requisite encore – the couple up and bolted past us.
“Must have needed a smoke,” my wife said, wryly.
Anyway, it was a great show that most of Redding missed – including two inconsiderate creeps who we didn’t miss.
And there was some fun to be had.
During the break, a gal that works at the Cascade stopped to talk, along with her 12-year-old daughter.
“Are you security?” the daughter asked.
I was wearing a navy blazer.
“I always feel secure around him,” my wife said.
Damn skippy, she’s right.
First off, I’ve got to get this off my chest: For all of you people who cry about no culture and nothing to do in the north state, Paul Delay is one of the best harmonica blues guys around; his band is the toast of Portland. Surly, there are more than 250 people interested in hearing so kick-ass blues.
Yes, the Cascade sold 250 tickets. That’s it. Tickets were $18 and $24, which is hardly extravagant. Get out and support the Cascade!
Next, we’re sitting in the third row – best seats we’ve ever had for an event at the Cascade – and a couple joins us after the warm-up band had started (which is beyond rude).
Then this beer-barreled fat man and his bottle-blonde wife (both absolutely fucking reeked of cigarette smoke) start talking – over the band. People all around us start to stare the guy down – and this guy’s gravelly voice fucking carried in the Cascade.
He pays no heed whatsoever.
Finally, I looked around my wife and caught bottle-blonde’s attention – and cut her a look the said, “Shut the fuck up right now.”
She apologized and smacked her husband. Still, they never did quite shut up.
But it did get better. At he break between bands, they went out for a few puffs; when they came back in (again, late HELLO), beer-barrel polka sat closer to us, sending his voice the other way.
Before Delay had a chance to sing is final song – and the requisite encore – the couple up and bolted past us.
“Must have needed a smoke,” my wife said, wryly.
Anyway, it was a great show that most of Redding missed – including two inconsiderate creeps who we didn’t miss.
And there was some fun to be had.
During the break, a gal that works at the Cascade stopped to talk, along with her 12-year-old daughter.
“Are you security?” the daughter asked.
I was wearing a navy blazer.
“I always feel secure around him,” my wife said.
Damn skippy, she’s right.
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