Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Murder City Devils

My equally married friend and I decided to catch a ride with a friend of ours in a "we mean business" white van up to the Murder City Devils show at the Fonda last night. What better way to go up to Hollywood than to get in the van with a sober driver, some bros, brews, tunes and plenty of space? Of course the whole time we knew our night would not be ending after the last encore had been played.

The night started off great, picked up in a parking lot off the 405 around 4 pm we headed up to Hollywood, got some gas off Slauson(beautiful country) and pulled up to the Fonda nice and early. 6 dudes in a white van pulling up to a venue while it is still light outside only means one thing, we're in a band. The parking staff directs us around back moves some cones blocking one of the spots and tells us to park there. Fuckin' sweet! We don't have to pay 20 bucks for parking.

We head over to the Frolic Room for a drink. It's pretty smooth in there, some urban cowboy equipped with a duster, leather hat and an in ear bluetooth, tells me he had the same sweater as I did. With a different neck line of course. We finish up and make our way over to the Well, the place looks swanky but we then see the menu with the happy hour specials, $3 wells. Done. After hearing the same damn MGMT song 3 times while we are there, we decided to head back to the van and drink the rest of the beers before the show. So far so good.

In the show, it's pretty typical, a good crowd, and of course over priced drinks, they got you trapped in there like rats. I'm approached by a couple that quickly tells me that they saw me at the Frolic room and that while they were in there, their rental car got towed. "That's a bummer man" I tell them, and they say yeah it sucks but their flights from Buffalo, NY were cheap, so it's all good. Buffalo, Ny, that's a long way to travel to see a show.

MCD takes the stage and kills it for a solid 1.5 hours. Alright, time to get in the van and head south. Nope, we first hit up the street meat vendor for a bacon wrapped dog. Delicious. Back at the van, inside ready to go, nope. Not yet, one of the boys meets up with an old flame, some model type LA broad, she has a friend too. We have been having some serious weather out here on the west coast lately, so no surprise some blizzard hits and the next thing I know, I'm out of the Van walking to the Burgundy room for a drink. Yep, after hours, where anything can and will happen.

I take a seat in a booth in one of the darkest bars I've ever stepped foot in. One of the boys gets mounted by one of the fishnet dames and the next thing I know, I'm trapped in a booth with no way out. "Yeah Dad I think he's going to pork her." What seems like the longest hour ever, the lights slowly come on and we hit the street. Only to find a huge pile of puke in the gutter and two LA douche bags yelling at a guy wearing eyeliner, accusing him of being a conservative 'no on prop 8' guy. "Yeah this makes sense," I think to myself. Next thing I know, the two douches are on the ground in the street with a total bewildered look on their faces, next only to both get punched in the face with two of the most rhythmic right hooks ever.

Well, that's that and we proceed to walk towards the van. Only to walk right over Johnny Cash's star. Fitting.

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