Hubby's latest band, Pounding Sand, played their first paying gig tonight.
The drummer's wife was there, and a few friends of the band, and a few other people, but basically it was a quiet night.
The singer's girlfriend's sister got beat up in the parking lot. Six police cars responded to the scene.
I got there after 5 of the cruisers had left, and realized that I have a plan in place for these situations: If you arrive at a bar with a cop car in the parking lot, park next to the cop car.
See? I am bolder than those people who might see a cop car and keep driving.
A guy we know arrived rather lit. He continued drinking. He danced with the singer's girlfriend, drank the drummer's wife's White Russian, told us all he wanted to get married but "didn't know how to make it happen", and then stumbled into someone carrying a tray full of drinks, so that the straw wedged itself behind his eyeglasses.
He left after that.
The group of us who came to see the band sat together while the band packed up and critiqued the evening. That's not something I usually do with anyone other than Hubby, but it was interesting none the less. It's good to hear other people's perspectives. For the most part, they agreed with me on what went well, and what went badly.
Now, Hubby is home, going over the tapes, and I am looking over the leftover Halloween candy. The bowl is suffering from continued overcrowding. I'll have to do something about that.
On a semi-related note, at one point the guitarist, embarrassed by a mistake he made, said, "I'm not getting laid, tonight!" and Hubby leaned into his microphone and said, "But I will."
I think I have become altogether too predictable. Not that I'm going to change on that score!