We sat, sober and stoic, on displaced cinema seats at the edge of a drunken mix of stumbling jeans, leather, PBR, and tight skirts shorter than 1969 and without panty lines. The last detail I didnt notice until T. pointed it out; I thanked her for planting it in my head. Nouveau trailer park chic was on tap for the evening and the cover band was dutiful in its soundtrack. When they kicked off the Skynyrd song, I was ready to take three steps toward the door. “TNT” lulled me into three minutes and thirty-three seconds of stomping Aussie rock contentment. But with the opening riff of “Hold On Loosely,” I leaned over to T. “I’ve been dropped into the southern rock purgatory of my youth.”
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 23:57:14 +0000
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