Bricktown/The Paseo


We spent early Saturday afternoon on the porch after a long-winded run. I can’t get over the dryness of this place. You don’t really sweat while you are working out, but once you stop, Niagra Falls comes out of your pores. The weather here is like the Joker too. In the matter of five minutes, the sky shifted like a menopausal woman’s mood. The sky cried hard for 30 minutes or so and then it was done.

According to Kayla and Polly (her sister-in-law), this is Tornado Alley. Everyone has to be prepared at any moment for unexpected, destructive weather change. Polly said just the other day she was driving on a highway outside of Stillwater and she thought she saw something out of her peripheral vision. When she got home and turned on the news, she discovered there was a tornado alert and that was the ghostly appearance from the corner of her eye.

Once the drizzling subsided, the adults decided to head to Bricktown to grab a beverage. The name adequately describes the section of town, because every building is made of red bricks. Nick met up with a girl he had met at an architecture conference in New Orleans while Kayla, Parry and I went to Tapwerks, a bar with over one hundred beers on tap. For $5, I had a Left Hand Milk Stout, a 16 oz. dark beer that reads at 5.2%. It was pretty tasty.

While I was standing at the bar, I lamely asked if I had to drink it with my left hand, which made me bring up the Buffalo game. A girl who was seated to my left turned abruptly and asked where I had heard of the game because she had never met anyone who knew about it. Evidently she learned of it from a guy in California.

The Buffalo game is a lifelong pact of members. Once you are in the club, you make a deal to never drink with your dominant hand. If a member catches you drinking with your dominant hand, they call Buffalo and you have to drink your entire beverage. To be honest, I hadn’t played the game in over four years because it was a thing with my ex-boyfriend and his group of friends. It may sound like a silly game, but it keeps you on your toes while you are in a social setting with your friends.

I had this one rival and I loved nothing more than to watch him throughout the night for the single moment when he had just gotten a full drink and hold it in his right hand and I would come out of nowhere and yell “BUFFALO!” The only drawback is that he would do the same to me, but it was all in good fun.

Beer

While at Tapwerks, we saw a local band called Giants of Enon. I can’t find their web page, but these guys were a great trio: guitar, bass and drums. The vocalist sounded quite similar to the lead of Kings of Leon, but their sound was a little more edgy. They had a good stage presence and their originals had promise. We watched a set and then decided to head to the Paseo art district to watch a band from the Ozarks.

I was not prepared for what I was about to encounter.

We went to a little restaurant called Galileo’s to watch this band Elephant Revival. Kayla’s friend Beth had been ranting of their amazingness for a whole day and something about her aura made me trust her instinct. (For future personal reference, I must remember this exact instinctual feeling).

The band was on break when we arrived, so Beth and I started to talk about my traveling plans while I sipped on a Boulevard-a local brew. She asked where we were going next and I replied with Fort Collins. She asked if we were going to go through New Mexico to Santa Fe. I told her we hadn’t really planned that route. She then listed about 20 reasons why I should go through New Mexico. “They don’t call it the land of enchantment for nothing,” she said with light in her eyes.

Before I could reply to her debate, the voice of creation sang to my soul. Literally, all of our heads turned to the right of the stage as this young girl began to sing with the most sultry, pure voice I had heard live…ever.

Elephant Revival is a five-person ensemble from Colorado: two females, three males. One of the females plays violin, the other a djembe (jimbay) and washboard. One of the gents plays a standing bass, while the other two swap between the banjo and guitar. All of them have distinct voices and when they harmonize, it just makes you close your eyes so you can feel the union.

They all share the spotlight cooperatively. They each contribute to the songwriting and respectfully introduce one another’s works. Their song, Currach, will bring a tear to even the most macho of men. My two favorite songs were “Ring around the moon” and “Sing to the mountain”. I’m trying to figure out how to post them on this blog so I can share this with you.

Nick showed up when they were almost through and of course fell in love with the angelic singer…and our punk-rock waitress. However, we soon found out our waitress was interested in me instead of him.

That’s right. I was hit on-openly-for the first time by a girl. She was wearing this small fannypack and I commented on it and without thinking, touched it. Then apologized for not asking and she replied “Oh that’s okay, you can touch my fannypack as much as you want.”

Let’s just say she then explained what fannypacking means in Europe and then said a few more lines to me that I can’t write about because my mother is probably going to read this. When she walked away all we could do was laugh because I was highly embarassed. Maybe it was my hairy legs that turned her on. Either way, it was fanny-tastic and Nick was jealous.

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