It had been a hard Friday night so far. My friend Ken had totaled his car in a traffic accident on the drive home, on the night we had planned to see Battlestar Galactica at the Bagdad Theater; a little chance for Ken to get out of the house and have a “guy’s night out” away from kids and the wife (if Merry’s reading this, that’s my words, not Ken’s).
Ken had decided to go out, anyway – mostly because his wife was studying and didn’t want him underfoot while she did so (again, that’s my interpretation of events). So there we stood, in the beautiful old lobby, standing in line with more than a half-hour to go until the show started, waiting to buy some beer.
Then I discovered that I had forgotten my apartment keys. Oh, boy. I do that a lot, it seems, which is why I have several backup plans: my sister has a spare, and so does my best friend Tracy. So I started with my sister, just because she was closest (in theory). Sadly, she wasn’t home, she couldn’t get a hold of her teenage son, my atheist nephew; and her husband wasn’t home. She thought my key was in a drawer in the laundry room, but without someone at home to check for it, she couldn’t swear that I could get it. Plus, I was going to be late – BSG wasn’t going to end until 11:00 PM, and I wasn’t going to miss the show even if it meant being locked out overnight.
So I checked with Tracy. She was home, but she lived in Canby, which was approximately 23.2 miles from the theater. Y’know, give or take a little. Plus it was going to be late. Tracy was worried about having to drive to where I was; I was worried about asking Ken to drive me to where Tracy was. I offered to get a ZipCar, but Ken graciously agreed to drive me there after the show. Treat your friends well. I owe Tracy and Ken both.
Oh, and I got to apply a little guilt to my sister. That was fun.
So all that had occurred and had been straightened out. Now Ken and I just wanted some beer and some sci-fi.
A dude with a camera walked up to us. “Hey guys, can I get your picture in front of the KUFO sign?” I looked, and there it was: a cheap plastic banner with the logo for the local radio station that was sponsoring this weekly event.
I shrugged. “Uh, sure.”
I stood there while the stranger in front of me in line made some kind of finger-gesture. Ken made an air-guitar stand. Me, I just stood there, dumbly, not sure what pose to use.
That’s not very rock-and-roll of me.
It wasn’t until afterward that I thought of what was missing: half-naked chicks. I mean, if this was supposed to be some kind of rock radio promotion thing, where were the half-naked chicks?
I’m pretty sure I would’ve had a much better pose then.