Noli Me Tangere

And then it got weird

Last night, Josh and Matt and I decided to check out the open mic at the 57th Fighter Group, a local military-themed restaurant/bar near my house. It's sort of a strange operation, located at a municipal airport but decorated in full military regalia, with lots of retired war paraphanelia, sandbags, and even a room that's been "bombed out". It's huge, and the only other time I'd been there, it was empty. But last night, the parking lot was packed.

Matt and Josh were in the parking lot as I drove up.

"Who are all these people?"
"I guess some of your friends came to check us out."
"No, really. What's going on here? What are all these cars?"
"Some of your friends from the Gay Bowling league came out tonight."
"You're kidding, right?"

Yes, the metro Atlanta Gay Bowling League was having a BIG, fabulous banquet. Why they chose to do this at 57th, I have no idea. I guess gay bowlers have to congregate somewhere.

"Well, that's a little random," I thought. "But ok." It was hard for me to imagine how the evening could get any weirder.

First up was Rocky. Rocky is 60-something, barrel-chested, and fond of country music. He wears a giant cowboy hat and a country music shirt. I imagine he's a NASCAR fan and an RV owner. Usually he sits in the back and shakes an egg during others' performances. Last night he recruited a bunch of the regulars to help during his set and then he sang three very twangy original numbers. They were off-key, behind the beat, and absolutely hilarious. The falsetto men’s country chorus punctuated many of the lines with little jokes, like repeating each line in a faux redneck accent after Rocky sang it. Then the tambourine broke, sending silver wheels across the floor, and the evening got a little weirder.

Next up was a young, heavy-set black singer-songwriter. Again, what a black girl was doing playing acoustic guitar at 57th with a bunch of middle-aged rednecks, I couldn’t say. But she had good songs and won us over because she could really write. And she did a great Bill Withers cover.

Finally, there was Indiana Dave. He also wore a thick black mustache, a hat, dark glasses and blue-jeans. I pegged him for a 55, and owner of a large garage workshop. He was pissed off and capital-G-grizzled. He apologized for his getup by saying that he had to disguise himself in case there were any terrorists watching.

“Hi, I’m Indiana Dave. I sing anti-terrorist folk songs.”

[smattering of nervous laughter]

“I come up here to sing songs that fight the camel-poop-sniffin’, sand-eatin’, towel-head terrorists, like that Osama Bin Muhammad Al-Qaeda bastard.”

[less laughter, more nervous]

“This song is called ‘Hang Down Your Head, Bin Laden’. It’s one of my favorites because halfway through the song, he gets killed.”

There was some subtle foreshadowing in the chorus:

hang down your head Bin Laden/hang down your head and cry
hang down your head Bin Laden/for surely you’re goin' to die.

I have to admit, it was pretty catchy. Then, he topped himself by doing an Arlo Guthrie parody:

yes, you can get anything you like
at Osama’s weapons shack

And just when I thought the evening couldn't possibly get any weirder, the banquet ended and a steady stream of very gay bowlers filed out across the stage behind the performer. All I could do was shake my head and laugh.

Posted by aokie at May 11, 2005 09:10 AM | TrackBack