Interviewed in Scottsdale, AZ, the capital of the upper middle class world, for a summer internship. After the interviews they took us out for happy hour. I returned to my hotel room happy. At this point I discovered that Russian choral music suddenly made a great deal of sense and I heard things in the Vespers that I've never heard before. The night was still young and it was time to go to a club named Martini Ranch. I called a cab. It was a white luxury car--everything in Scottsdale is a luxury car--driven by a deformed Slavic guy in a suit who flipped through radio stations asking me at each one if I liked the music.
The club was big and filled with beautiful people. Black limo parked outside. It didn't stack up against the Keller of course, but it did get me all nostalgic for the life again. A cover band called Wonderbread came in for a set. They had on giant afros, about 3 or 4 feet wide I'd say, basketball jerseys, and silver sparkling pants. They were wacky as hell. They did covers of Superfreak, Tupac, the Violent Femmes. The lead singer poured Jaegermeister into the waiting mouths of girls. As they played, a big screen off to the left showed a video feed of them with a slight delay between frames, because reality delayed by .1 seconds is so much cooler than reality undelayed.
Posted by Alan at April 6, 2003 10:07 PM