the Eagle.
Alone.
not recommended.

however! after getting the sense that the pansy division wouldn't be playing at 8pm as scheduled (since it was 8.17pm and the PA wasn't even set up. don't blame them; it rained hardcore-precip), i ordered a premo. i-think-his-name-is-tommy-hotyoungmisplaced-bartender was my server. he's a somehow-friend of my somewhat-fairweatherdoesn'tevenbegintodescribe-friend. "tommy" recalls me not. after beer one and several phonecalls to half of my addressbook. "tommy" gives me another premo. i take it apprehensively. he says, "it's on the house."

[[um... OK!]]
3 more on-the-house premos later... i'm hellsa uncomfortable, pansy d. hasn't started playing but are dispersed-ally frolicking with old leather men at different areas of the bar(s), AND under the ego-boosting-but-i-must-pass impression that hottttttt "tommy" is trying to get me to stay. {slash-drunk.)

i depart for the safety of NE Mpls at Jitters for soon-to-be-roomie's belated birthday get-together. oh! mara, jam and nik. and kaitlyn [kaitlin?] and her sister kelsey [kelsie, kelsy?]. lovely.

i become more drunk. i sober up, slightly. i drive the 14 blocks home, realizing halfway-there that i don't think i'm perfectly apt to be driving.

[[this is bad. and unforgiveable. but it happened. and no one is hurt or dead or ticketed. so it's [relatively] okeedoke. it shall not happen again.]]

the conclusion of this anecdote is:

U2 is the indie, aging leatherman's musical saviour.

[[and that pansy division somewhat failed me. even though two of 'em wouldn't stop staring at me.]]