It snowed all day Friday. By the evening, many of roads were icy and snow packed. Only a blizzard would stop the gallery romp. Paddy arrived a little after seven with Bradly and Jacqueline in tow. Art Guy met us at Point Gallery on Santa Fe. London was MIA, which turned out to be a good thing.
Point had works on display by Denali Schmidt, an artist from San Francisco who was killed in an avalanche on K2. There were some great pieces in this show. It’s a shame the artist died when he was twenty-five.
The gang left Point and headed over to the galleries on Navajo Street. Art Guy took control and became our driver. Art Guy was a control freak. He’s a lawyer who seemed to be an authority on every subject, knew everyone in town and knew the backstory on everything. Art Guy treated us to an ongoing monologue the whole time the gang was in his SUV. It was relieving to be able to get away from him when we made stops. He did have some nice qualities but he’s not the man for me. Paddy, Bradly and Jacqueline were in agreement.
The gang went crazy at Navajo. I was the only one who did not buy art. Brady pick up three pieces at Next, Paddy and Jacqueline both bought a piece at Zip37 while Art Guy bought several pieces at Zip37.
After Navajo, the gang headed over to RiNo. Once again, Art Guy provided a monologue during the drive. The gang struck out at Ice Cube. The last gallery for the night was Dateline, which was a small space with a plywood floor with high gloss finish. The smell of glove cigarettes and pot perfumed the cold air outside of the gallery. Dateline was packed with an urban/hipster crowd. The gallery had a very underground primitive feel. Art Guy picked up two pieces at Dateline.
With the art tour finished, the gang pilled back into Art Guy’s SUV and headed over to South Broadway to check out Jacqueline’s man, who was now nicknamed Shrek. Art Guy provided another monologue for our driving pleasure.
The first stop was an Irish pub where Paddy and Bradley slammed down Vodka tonics. Bradley found a joint on top of piano which he took with him. The gang walked down the street to meet up with Shrek. Jacqueline held on to my arm as the sidewalks were icy and she was weary black knee-high boots with four-inch spike heels.
Shrek’s band had a gig in a joint that’s a used book store with a coffee bar. The place had a small stage area by the front window. The three bands were on the bill. The first band was playing when we arrived. They were reminiscent of early punk rock bands. Short songs with a few chords along with loud screaming vocals. The band was terrible so we walked across the street to a pizzeria to wait for Shrek’s set. Paddy ordered a round of drinks while Art Guy bought a slice of pepperoni pizza. I had water.
With drinks finished, we walked back across the street. Shrek’s band was playing. They were worse than the first band. Shrek sang off-key. The instruments were out of tune. It was another primitive punk rock performance. Shrek’s band played “We Are The Champions” but the lyrics were changed to “We Are the Tadpoles”. They were beyond bad. Thankfully, it was only a four song set. Shrek was unshaven. His red lipstick was smeared around his lips while his eye makeup looked like a poor copy of Alice Cooper. Shrek wore an unbutton shirt with black pants that almost fell off. Green plastic clear sunglasses worn on top of his shaved head was the crowning jewel of his ensemble. He was a mess. None of us could determine which team he was on. It was decided Jacqueline should find a new guy.
With the set over, the gang headed up the street to BoyzTown, a gay bar with male strippers that charges women a $5 cover charge. The place smelled of desperation and loneliness. Numerous sixty-something men were being caressed by young jockstrap-clad strippers. Paddy once again ordered drinks. I refrained as I was hungry and didn’t want to drink on an empty stomach.
London started sending rapid fire texts to Paddy after we arrived at Boyztown. Paddy invited London to join us. None of the texts made sense. London’s texting barrage ended with “fuck off”. It was clear London was messed up. I was elated London was not joining us. A bullet was dodged.
One older gentleman paid a tall hunky stripper to rub his abundant crotch on Jacqueline. Even with heels, the stripper towered over Jacqueline. His next target was Bradly. Thankfully, it was time to leave before he got to me.
Art guy drove us back to Santa Fe Street to get Paddy’s car. No drive was complete without Art Guy’s monologue. Just as I thought the night was over, the gang, minus Art Guy, decided it was time to eat dinner. Interstate Kitchen and Bar on Santa Fe was still serving. It was 11:30 when we sat down.
The gang enjoyed tasty dishes while recapping the night’s event. All of us were thrilled Art Guy went home. No more monologues. I had a delicious macaroni and cheese with smoky bacon. Not the best dish to eat at midnight but it sure hit the spot.
It was one in the morning when I got home. The six hour adventure was over. I was soon in bed drifting off to sleep. It was one hell of a night.