2003-08-23 - 2:19 p.m.

'my groupie potential is through the roof'

The other day I went driving down Lamar and passed this bar where inside this band was playing. And its name jumped out at me from this small tiny little whisper of a memory. And it sucked me back there. And became huge and important somehow.

And I remembered having just moved to Big Al. And Penny and I were drinking tall screwdrivers at this bar called Burts. And the band was playing these amazing rockabilly songs that buzzed in my ears like the alcohol had started to buzz through my bloodstream. I was giddy. Hair all pink. Clothes all black. And it was just the beginning. Nothing bad had gone down. Things were still high as could be. And so was I.

And we were sitting in this booth sucking down our third or fourth drinks, though it could have been our seventh or eighth, when the band ended its set. And the bass player with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen sat down next to me. He said, 'I like your hair.' And we talked about Hedwig. And their touring. And he told me that they had been in 'Rolling Stone.' He told me that they were named one of the top ten new bands of the year. And I nodded thinking it was a pretty good line. Even better if it were true. And he looked at me all blue blue eyes and asked me to take him home.

And the suggestion flooded me. Practically drowned me. Because no one had ever been so interested. Not in me. Not like that. Not that I'd ever known before. And I thought on it real hard. Thinking of what it would be like. Thinking about whether or not I could be the kind of girl who picks up strange boys on tour. Whether I wanted my first time to be with someone already on his way out the door. Out of town. The state. Maybe even the country. Did I want to take him home and then not be able to keep him. I thought and thought and thought while swimming laps in those clear, bright eyes. Him just looking. Smiling. Talking to me as if he hadn't just made the most temptingly indecent proposal of my life. And I liked him. At least I think I did.

So I didn't take him home. I didn't take him to bed. I left him there. In that darkened booth in Big Al. And yesterday while driving through this new town, I saw the name of his band hanging outside of a bar and wondered if he'd even remember me. That one time. I wondered if maybe a flash of recognition would cross his face if he saw me. And somehow I doubted it. But it didn't quell my urge to push through the doors. Just to risk it. Just to see.

�

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