funky... it was.

whenever you hang out with Biggles, you never know what you're going to get.

after a chance meeting at the radio station ten years ago, he's been my de facto brother, since. i guess that means that i'd feel obliged to bail him out if he ever got arrested. only, that would be sticky with the authorities.
the limeys are brigands. educated, but dicey.

but, rest assured, there is always drama... and it's always less fun when it's somebody else's. not that it's fun any other time. it's part of the "experience".

but, after ticket shuffling, getting interviews, and assorted last-minute surprises, we arrived at the theater on time... a real palace, 1931-style. his date for the evening (a German friend's Colombian wife, 6-months speaking english) found the words to call it an "art gallery". that it was. more Louis XIV than art deco. but a Hell of a place to listen to New Orleans funk/pop/soul/jazz.

Allen_Toussaint: nobody knows who he is. but, he wrote "Mother-In-Law". "Workin' In A Coalmine". "Soul Sister". "Everthing I Do Gon' Be Funky". "A Certain Girl". "Lady Marmalade". "Get Out My Life, Woman". "Southern Nights"!?
he can slay the piano, too. and sing. and turn an art gallery into Tipitina's.

after that input, i was ready to bolt. a beer would have been nice, but the last thing i felt like doing was clubbing... but, i was a passenger. and, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Nietzche says.

but, the club (next to my old art school) was comfortable. loud. decent beer on tap.
Miss Colombia got to work on her english, and get out for the first time since her arrival with her baby. Biggles hit on a girl who's father used to inflict pain on my teeth (dentist, that is).
i got hit on by women with dates.

damn good thing i was a passenger.

(pictures compliments of 1.5 megapixel cameraphone goodness)