Someone Needs a Hug: An Evening at Club Rodeo

Fehmeen and I went out clubbing last night. On a school night, even. We were so exhausted after an evening of debauchery that they had to wheel me out of there. There was slightly inappropriate dancing and excessive drinking and thunderous live music pumping all night long. And if you think that we were a part of any of that then you definitely don’t know us very well.

We had tried to see Keith Anderson a few years ago and failed miserably. For all of you who just said, “Who?”, Keith Anderson is a country music singer/songwriter who used to write hit songs for other artists and now has a solo career. I know you probably stopped paying attention at the part where I wrote country music but if you are a fan of well-written, catchy, hooky, fun and creative music then do yourself a favor and check him out and maybe you’ll end of digging him as much as we do.

The last time we tried to catch him, we arrived at Club Rodeo, tickets in hand, to an utterly empty and deserted parking lot and nightclub. We were clued in by another pair of uninformed losers that Keith had canceled this date on his tour due to a sore throat. Apparently the promoters had inundated the airwaves of the local country radio station with this info but since we don’t have that particular station on our car presets, we were S.O.L.

So it was with mixed emotions that we arrived at a jam-packed, coned-off so as to restrict access to Club Rodeo parking lot last night. Happy because the show was obviously on this time around and annoyed because they were absolutely zero handicapped parking spaces in the near vicinity of the building. We ended up parking in front of a warehouse on a dark street a few blocks away. I utilized the off-road feature of my wheelchair and we made our bumpy and unevenly-surfaced way to the front door.

Once inside, we now had to jockey for a seat. (Not really for me because I provide my own accomodations but for Fehmeen). We found a spot at a table next to these radio exec type dudes who didn’t say word one to us all night. Perhaps it was because we just sat ourselves down at their empty table while they were trying their hand at line dancing and they didn’t feel like throwing down with a Blue Placard Warrior and his hottie. Or maybe they were just being nice.

As we settled in with our drinks for the evening, a glass of coke for me and a tiny little adult beverage made from grapes for my partner in crime, we couldn’t help but notice that the floor show had begun. Parading around before our eyes in a counter-clockwise circular-ish trajectory were approximately four dozen of the Silicon Valley’s most enthusiastic, and not to mention rather interestingly dressed, group of line dancers. To their credit, they did a better job with the dancing than with the dressing because most of the fashions on display were in vogue circa 1995, with the notable exception of a few misguided attempts at pulling off the skinny jean look. (Before you say, “Oh yeah, what were you wearing?”, I will admit right here and now that I wore the same outfit to the show that I wore to school that same day which consisted of a pair of jeans and a button down shirt purchased from…Costco. Deal with that, judgers of me judging you). 🙂

Around 930 pm, scheduled show time, a dj, I mean on-air personality, from the local country station graced the stage with his Cowboys-hatted presence. And when I say Cowboys hat, I’m not referring to a chapeau of the ten-gallon variety but rather of the Dallas/Tony Romo/Terrel Owens vintage. Front runner or fan from back in the day, I know not, but an interesting choice of dome cover in Niner country. Apparently, it was his designated duty to scream out the message, even though he had a microphone in his hand, to the increasingly socially lubricated masses that it was almost time to rock and that we should check out these upcoming Club Rodeo shows, of which he told us about for the next few moments.

Fifteen more minutes passed before the headliner and his band hit the stage. In addition to playing tunes from both of his albums, Keith also performed a couple of songs that he had written and had become hits for other artists. To me, the coolest part of the show happened when Keith introduced the band to the audience. As he mentioned each band members name, they played a verse and a chorus of a cover song that showcased each guy’s talent. I did not expect to hear Kiss’ Detroit Rock City, Don Henley’s Boys of Summer, or an unremembered titled (by me) tune by ZZ Top at a country bar.

In addition to the music being played, we were afforded the opportunity to bear witness to the drunken human drama unfolding on the dance floor in front of us. In addition to the usual sloppy and staggering slow-dance make out sessions, there was this white-haired older gentleman with a Moe from the Three Stooges haircut who was enthusiastically dancing with every pretty girl in the joint. At one point he even got so excited that he grabbed a bunch of balloons that were at the edge of the dance floor and headbutted them. Good times, good times.

By around 1100 pm, Fehmeen and I were ready to get out of Dodge. We bid a fond adieu to Club Rodeo as we rolled out of there. We arrived home around 1115 pm, checked on the Bug, and promptly crashed for the night. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the good time I had tonight and how great it felt to be out in the world doing normal people things again. I definitely have to do this again.

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