I don't look up at the sky much, and sure don't remember a full moon last night. And according to my handy-dandy desk calendar, there wasn't one yesterday.
But, you wouldn't have known it if you were with me at Cafe Nine to see The Broken West and Dodo Bird.
I've been to the Nine well over 100 times, at least once a week for the last 2+ years. Never has anyone tried to dance with me. Last night, not one, but two times did someone grab my hand and forcibly try to engage me in something I don't do: dance.
First, some sloshed woman dressed up as a racquetball player attempted to pull me away from my beer — twice. Now, I play racquetball often (and I'm not sure if she could sense this), but I was at the venue with my friend Jay, who, unfortunately, has been beating me lately at the r-ball. Why not dance with him? Let me watch the band.
After avoiding her advances, some woman said she needed me for a second. I assumed she wanted to ask question. You know what happens when you assume? Well, she grabbed me and put me in the middle of dancing circle. It freaked me out. I thought I might have to go the bathroom. Once I escaped the circle, my heart rate went back to normal.
The point of this entry? You just never know when weird things will happen.
And that was my Sunday night. The Broken West sounded amazing. Definitely check the band out. On to tonight and The Hold Steady. See you in Boston ... if you're smart. And go Patriots.