dream in AZ about MN

I made it to Phoenix late yesterday. Very bumpy flight over the midwest. I guess there was some really bad weather, thus a good straight hour of turbulence. Made it impossible to sleep even though I've been running on empty for the past week. Anyway, all is well. Folks are good. My niece Amy broke her wrist but seemed to be handling it well.
However, I had another strange dream last night. I dreamt that I was an engineer overseeing a vast network of bridges and underground trains for the city of Minneapolis. I would have to assume that the city of Minneapolis somehow relates to my brother's wife Lynn (that's where she's from). Anyway, there's about a dozen peope in a board room and I unveil a futuristic plan for the transportation infrastructure of the city. There's a bunch of ooohs and ahhhs when I unveil the main sketch. Basically, there is a network of bridges that resemble the top of Mellon Arena. I'd say about 16 bridges or so that all lead to the top of the city. They all interconnect at the top dead-center location above the heart of the city. But there's nothing at the top. Beneath the city is about half the amount of trains (probably 8) which also interconnect beneath the city. These train routes lack the curvature of the bridges - much more straight and direct. And that's pretty much how it ends - just me unveiling some kind of futuristic plan to a city council.
I would have to assume that all this relates to me seeing my brother's wife Amy. Perhaps it's about the paths our family has taken and how they all merge back to a common location. The strange thing is that nothing much happens in the dream - only the symbolic imagery of the paths of bridges and trains, up above and down below. My other dreams have had very specific imagery and events. This one seemed more generalized. Maybe it has something to do with establishing boundaries, personal directions and familial pathways through life. At least that's my guess.

Alright...

Alright, so I went to the Dave Matthews Starlake opener last night. It was also his summer kickoff show. Honestly, I had no idea I was going, let alone driving. I met up with Heather and Sarah at the salsafied cafe and was convinced to attend. Then, encouraged to play the usual role of limo driver, except, via Subaru. Our group was semi-disorganized, yet sturdy and determined. Fortunately, I cleaned out my car the day before - it was a pig sty. We made it to the lot around 6pm and hooked up with The Dub and his crew. Nearby was Jenn, Amanda and her crew. Taligated for a bit and I snagged a mail order ticket off some dude in the lot for $20. I thought about working the buy and sell angle but just didn't feel like it. Jenn was envious of my mail order ticket and wanted to trade for her standard one. I declined - an omen of things to come.
They all went into the show as I finished off a beer. When I went to the old lady scanning the tickets, she scanned and it came back negative. No fucking beep noise. "Are you kidding me?" She looks down at the ticket and explains it's for Saturday, the following night. I'm a little astonished. I never bothered to check the date. I just assumed it was a go, especially since it was a mail order. So I gather my wits and head back to the dumpster area and look for a ticket. Very little action at this point, since it was going into the third song. I ran into this one guy and he offers me a ticket for $30. I try to get him down to $20, but I'm tired of haggling and I give him the thirty. I bum another beer, drink it, and head down to the same old lady. "Alright, let's try this one." She scans it. No fuckin' beep. She softly explains, "I'm sorry sir, this ticket has already been used." This time I'm pissed, not at her, but at myself. I let that fuckhead sell me a used ticket. UNBELIEVABLE. What am I? Some kind of concert going newbie.
Anyway, I take a deep breath and head back to the car. There's group of 4 people hanging out near my car in the VIP lot. They sense my dismay and this one guy asks me, "Hey, what's up?" I respond, "You don't want to know." This guys is just like me, looking for a floorshow or some side entertainment. I go into the prolonged explanation of how I got a ticket for the wrong night and then bunked. His girlfreind says they have an extra and she insists on giving it to me. He tries to charge me for it but she insists. Alright, so I get miracled at a DMB show and the original Saturday mail order ticket is still usable, even though it was scanned.
I missed about 5 songs but made up for it with about 3 extra beers. I squirmed my way to the box seats where my original crew was. KILLER seats. Definitely among the best. As for the show itself, hats off too Jenn D. for calling the Don't Drink The Water opener. She studies these DMB setlists though. I blame myself. I think she takes after me with the Dead setlists.
I thought the show could have been a bit stronger song-wise but there was some great energy. I don't care for Grey Street as one of their closer songs. I thought the encore would be the song about his sister, but I was thinking Grace is Gone - it turned out to be the other song about his sister. I was surprised by the small crowd. The grass lot and VIP sections were a little over half full. Kind of low for a nice weather Friday night. Maybe it's the economy, but hey, isn't Dave the king of the rich-white-college-girl crowd? That's actualy why I like him - DMB is a marketing machine. F'in A.
The ride home took an extra half hour. I'm not going to explore this part of the night in print. Dropped everyone off at the house and hit the Alpha. I'm taking my crew up to Pittsburgh today. They just want dropped off and they're going to dinner and the Penguins game #4. I'll pick them up around midnight. Guess where I'll be in the interim? That's right - round 2. Can't let that ticket go to waste. I think it may be the first time in the history of Starlake that someone shows up in an empty limo. Dare to dream...

2 more

Yep, 2 more dreams from last night. There was a third dream, but I forget what it consisted of. The first dream was VERY brief. Meowee was chasing a mouse through the house into my bathroom. The mouse jumped into the toilet and Meowee went in after it. I was trying to prevent Meowee from literally being flushed down the toilet. It was kind of like a George Jetson type atmosphere (Jane get me off this crazy thing). My feet are braced against the base of the toilet and I'm grabbing, pulling and trying to restrain the cat. It was a very "cartoon-like" atmosphere. My hands are around her midsection. Then it abruptly ends. Something of note - another dream with a mouse that has some kind of death wish or is dead.
The other dream was more distinctive. I'm shopping at Reisbeck's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Incidentally, I worked there back in late high school/early college. About 3 years. There was an incident where this old guy getting a newspaper. I was about to go on break and said, "do you mind if snag one of these." He screamed, "Oh no you don't and slammed the newspaper machine door on my hand." Then, I said something to the affect, "You asshole, what the fuck is wrong with you." He complained to my boss. I wasn't fired but they reduced my hours to one day a week - so basically, it became a joke to work there. All that has nothing to do with the dream, just some background info.
Anyway, I'm in the store doing some shopping. No recollection of the contents of the shopping cart. I ran into a guy I know named Chris and another one named Dan. We made small chit-chat as we went through the checkout line. I'm almost out of the store, and I run into another guy I know named Dave. He discreetly tells me that he has just shoplifted 6 chocolate bars. He opens his jean jacket and there are a bunch of regular Hershey bars. I say something like , "Good for you." We both start out the door and a siren goes off, and somebody over the sound system says, "Code Red" or "Emergency"." I forgert the exact wording. Anyway, this black employee about 25-30 yrs old who resmebles this guy I know also named Dan, puts me in a headlock and tells me I have to come with him. He walks me to the back. I don't resist but just am kind of "along for the ride." We enter the storage area in the back and that's where it pretty much ends. I think I said something like, "You'll never find anything on me. I didn't take anything."

another dream

I took a very rare afternoon nap and just had another dream. This one was incredibly brief. I was entering the Walmart in St. Clairsville. As I approached the door, I see this motorized wheelchair coming from the other direction. There's a woman sittting in it, but her body is disconnected. No arms, no legs, no torso - IT'S JUST A HEAD. The rest of her body is right next to the head, somewhat slumped over. This guy entering the building looks at me and lamentably says, "Ohhhh, she's fucked."
The head was relatively ugly. It looked a bit like a friend's mom. I don't want to say who because I referred to the head as ugly. If I see you in person, I'd probably be willing to share who it is.
I remember thinking to myself in the dream, "How on earth does the deatched headed person get around so well." Then, I wake up.
I think there's a correlation between this dream and the last dream with the mouse. Obviously, both dreams had disfigurement issues.

another dream

Sure enough, I had another dream last night. Like I said, I rarely dream these days and if I do, I usually don't remember them. I'm sitting at a bar with Paulie Goutiellrie and Christopher Multisanti from the Sopranos. The bar looks a lot like the one in the movie Good Fellas - the scene where they kill that made guy "Bats" in Queens. Oddly enough, Bats is the New York boss on the Sopranos. I seem to be playing the role of Bats, or at the very least, I'm sitting in his seat. A converstaion emerges between the 3 of us and Chris challenges me to eat a mouse. I tell him that will require $360 or $380, I forget. Then, I come to the realization that they want me to eat a live mouse. I tell them it must be dead, and they start laughing. Chris leans behind the counter and grabs a dead mouse and places it in a plastic shot glass. I look at it and it's pretty mangled. Mostly made of head and tail. It seems to be missing most of its body. I ask them where the money is and Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of crumpled bills -roughly $18. As I unfurl the bills there's a little more in there. About another $10 or so. I look at them both and say that it's insufficient or something to that affect. And that's where the dream ends.

dreams

For the past 2 night, I've had dreams of impending personal danger and destruction. Very rarely do I even remember the content of my dreams, but these were both extremely vivid and both caused me to wake up.
On Sunday night, I dreamt I was skateboarding down a hill that looked a lot like 2 mile Hill (Dallas Pike). However, the hill was sloped differently. As though, I was starting at the Highlands and going down eastward. I never been able to operate a skateboard effectively. As I approach the bottom, the road turns into a swamp and I end up wearing a pair of roller blades. I'm trying to navigate through the swamp - it reminded me of a picture of the Puget Sound in Oregon. And of course I start sinking and getting bogged down. When I feel as though I'm totally helpless and sinking, I wake up.
Last night, I dreamt I was on the front porch of a house in a prairie like setting and I spot a tornado off in the distance. I ask a man in the house (not sure who it was) how far off he thinks the tornado is. He says, "I don't know" and then I say "seems like the distance from Wheeling to Wellsburg." The house is a standard brick colonial (probably 4 bedroom/2 bath). I suggest we'd better head inside as a few other tornadoes have started to form (same distance). We retreat into the living room and there's woman (not sure who it was) staring out the window and she says something to the affect of "Oh god, look at all the other ones coming." I stare out the living room window and there's probably about a dozen funnel clouds approaching. That's when I wake up.
Maybe once a year or so, I have a nightmare where I wake up in a sweat. I wasn't perspiring on either occasion, but I was definitely unsettled and agitated. I'm curious to see if another dream hits me tonight.

I neglected to mention, in the second dream, when I retreat into the house, I try to shut the door, but there's no knob or handle. I manage to close it for the most part. The flap at the base of the floor is awkwardly sticking up. It's made of a black rubbery plastic composite.

Balance

Over the past 2 decades, I've often been asked about my nonbeliever status. I've heard the same questions repeatedly, "Saf, you don't believe in god?" "Saf, do you think Jesus was a Jew?" "Well Saf, then who created the universe and set everything in motion?" On and on it goes. All the same questions. All posed with the similar tinge of incredulity. As if I have a different take on the same questions that have plagued mankind. Yes, plagued. While these questions might offer humans a sense of hope, they're also the questions that bring about the worst qualities in man. It's an intriguing balance. A televangelist can take the comfort of old womans prayer and use if for sinister gain. A third world tyrant, or one right here in the USA, can use religion as a weapon of terror, mobilizing the janjaweed to storm through villages, raping and killing, or even worse, subtly using the notion of "good vs. evil" to milk hundreds of billions to alter the geoploitical landscape of the planet.
As would be expected, I find all this as disturbing as the next guy. Well Saf, at least you can take comfort in the idea of a greater power or some omnipotent force that guides mankind. Yeah, right! Talk about the audacity of hope!
But the truth is I DO believe. Not in Jesus Christ dying for my sins, or they came to the ark in twosies twosies, or the notion of papal infallibility, or a burning bush, or the garden of eden, or Ezekial begat so and so, or any of that line of mundane jibberish. I believe there's balance in the universe. You see it all around you, everyday in just about every conceivable way. Everything is striving toward some form of common ground, or center. Some refer to it as yin/yang or maybe a branch of Taoism. I don't know what it's called, but you see it in every aspect of life - politics, economics, spirituality, war. And there's balance in simpler things; landscaping, golf, online gambling.
I've always had a desire to put these thoughts on paper, or nowadays, screen. So I'm bidding farewell to the acrimonious restaurant reviews and the mildly amusing rock concert anecdotes. For the forseeable future, I'll just be writing about one concept - BALANCE IN THE UNIVERSE. I wonder if it will be fulfilling. Some will like it, some won't. Some posts will leave you contemplative, others will be like "things that make you hmmmm (Arsenio Hall style)." Some posts will dwelve into the stark realities of mankind, other posts will deal with the misuse of ranch dressing. In any event, they'll all be dealing with the notion of balance and how everything strives toward some common ground. Hopefully, this goes over better than that double comedy cd. Maybe it will, maybe it won't.

99th post

As I approach my hundreth post, I thought it would be a good idea to journey back to my blogroots - the restaurant reviews. How about a general recap? With all the lousy dining options in the valley, it's vital to get the truth out there. I'm just going to offer some listings and brief explanations.

Best lunch option - I'd have to say Metropolitan Grill. Yeah, I know the service ranges from marginally questionable to downright bizarre. You have to go in with a certain mindset. It might take 10 minutes to get seated. It could take 20 minutes to make verbal contact with your waiter/waitress. You might get the wrong bill. You might get the complimentary bread, you might not. Even worse, you get the bread, but they didn't shake up that dipping sauce so it ends up tasting like straight light sweet crude oil. Your waiter might have those wierdo African disc earings stretching the fuck out of his earlobes. If you can handle the oddities of the waitstaff, you're in great shape because the food is of impeccable quality. The salads are, hands down, the absolute best in a 45 mile radius. Any of the salads are a great choice. You'll never be disappointed. And to be honest, it's really not the fault of the waitstaff because the guy who owns the place hires and fires people like it's a bodily function. The average employee only works there for like 4 days or so.
Honorable mention goes to Figaretti's. It's not really about the food. The place is just so damn comfortable.

Best dinner option - I'll probably take some heat on this one. I'd have to say Outback. I know, I know. Saf, it's a fuckin' chain restaurant and they use words like "Kookooburra" and say things like "ahoy, matey." Nonetheless, the menu is strong and affordable and the service is decent and friendly. A few pieces of advice - the Bloomin Onion is one of the least healthy things you can eat on the planet earth. Their wings are surprisingly poor. The seared Ahi Tuna appetizer is very good. If you get the caesar side salad, ask for a few wedges of lemon. Great dressing, but use it sparangly. It's loaded with mayonnaise. And finally, don't go there on a Friday or Saturday. It's far too busy. Choose an off night.
Honorable mention goes to DeeJay's in Weirton. Great food. Great price. Great service. Nice place.

Best breakfast - Sonny Boys in outer Bridgeport is dirt cheap, but the place is kind of disgusting. The food is decent but I question the resaurants' cleanliness and the personal hygiene of the workers. I'm even more concerned about the hygiene of its patrons. Plus, the place wreaks of cigarette smoke. As far as price goes, it can't be beat. However, I'd rather pay a little more and go some place nice. Thus, the Ihlenfield Dining Room at Oglebay Park gets the nod. The have a fantastic Sunday brunch for around 12 bucks. I've only gone a few times but it's truly impressive. Plentiful options, pleasant atmosphere and the food is great. One piece of advice - don't stand in the omelette station or handmade waffle line if there are more than 3 people. You'll look like an idiot trying to make small talk with the hotel guests (you'll be forced to discuss the all the finer points of Oglebay Park - that's a conversation of consternation) and it will take forever for them to custom design your breakfast. Heed this warning - avoid the Ihlenfield dining room for any other meal. Only the Sunday brunch is decent.
Honorable mention goes to Bob Evans.

Worst buffet - Oh, for the love of God, that Super Buffet on National Road by TJ's. Chinese/American/Italian cuisine at its absolute worst. Yeah, they have 200 options, but they're all equally bad. The food sits there for who knows how long and the parking lot is relatively vacant. I think I'd rather eat at the CVS next door.

Worst overall restaurant - It's got to be TJ's Sportgarden. WHY? Why do people voluntarily choose to dine at this place? I have no idea whatsoever. The food is so bad it defies description. The funny thing is that the menu is standard sports bar fare, so you've got to figure it can't be that bad. They just offer the basics and deep fry the hell out of everything else. It's something more sinister though. I think TJ's thrives because of the stupidity of the general populous of Ohio & Belmont Counties. It's success is largely based on the indisputable fact that the morons who reside in the area "simply don't know any better." What else could explain how this place has been successful through the years? As I see it, TJ's success is based on 3 things - the dumbness and low iq of area residents, their unbelievably low dining expectations and its location (they do have a nice spot right off I-70.

Best burger - I don't eat a lot of hamburgers but Billy's Brickyard in deep Triadelphia is the best.

Best wings - Drover's. Nothing else compares. If you don't want any drummies, make sure to loudly request all "Double Boners." That's what they unashamedly refer to them as. Great atmosphere. Just don't go there with a crowd of more than 4 on a busy night - a guaranteed recipe for disaster.

Worst fast food restaurant - A triple tie between 3 Bruger Kings. The one in Warwood is beyond disgusting. The one on the Island is atrocious. And the one in Bel-dirty is, well, just plain dirty.

Best steak night - I'd have to say the Undos, T&C, Sparachane, Herk entity cannot be beat. Here's the advice - call in an order for takeout. Steak, baked potato and salad easily feed two. Always go early. A waitress once told me, "If you're getting there late, you'll get the slop that's leftover at the end of the night."

Best cafeteria - Gotta go Mehlman's. Dirt cheap. Food is decent and more importantly, it's safe and predictable. Avoid the salad, roll and dessert area at the beginning of the line. Stick with the stuffed chicken breast, green beans and mashed potatoes. Go with the obvious for maximum fulfillment. Their secret motto is "You will grow old with us."

Worst cafeteria - gotta stick with Hoss's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Fuck that place.

Worst Mexican - that Nogales place in downtown Wheeling is gross. I'd rather consume regurgitated dogshit.

For my 100th blog, I'm going to start focusing on more tangible/regional concerns Stay tuned...

Bed Bath & Beyond

Yesterday I zipped up to the Highlands and made a purchase that has transformed my very existence. I purchased the Aquascape Waterpik showerhead. It was marked down from $89 to $69. The head on this thing is massive. 5 different settings that spew forth H20 in ways that boggle the mind and alter the boundaries of imagination. I have named it "Obama." This showerhead represents a new standard and a fresh approach to the bathing process much the same way Barack Obama has injected a new perspective to the political process. I have aptly decided to name the old showerhead "Bush." It will be discarded in the near future.
I've always hated taking baths. There's something inherently unpleasant about wallowing in ones own filth. Maybe if the water could stay hot. From time to time I do embrace the Oglebay hot-tub whirlpool spa thing. Usually when my back is locked up. But I digress. Anyway, I strongly encourage anyone to check out this innovative showerhead contraption.
I also purchased a splashproof radio/cd player for 20 bucks. It's a bit on the large side but is a nice add on. My old shower radio was a piece of junk. You could barely pick up the local stations and the thing looked like something out of a McDonalds Happy Meal.
I also purchased some new ice cube trays that feature "cylinderical" style cubes. Good for inserting in a bottle of water or wine to go. Cost - 1 package of 3 trays for #3.99. Now I'll admit, that one's a rip off. Still, I find these new ice cubes exhilerating.
All in all, I highly recommend the Bed Bath & Beyond at the Highlands. The employees are genuinely friendly and helpful, but they give you an ample amount of breathing room so they're not a nuisance. I give them high marks. There's nothing worse than an overly aggressive Walmart employee who's trying to sell you on some low-end olives or canned meat. While on the topic of Walmart, there's this one guy who stocks shelves. He's a middle aged white man that sports a 1970's NBA style afro. Has anyone seen this guy? They make him wear this hair net meshing ensemble. Very unusual.
The last time I was in Walmart I happened to strike up a conversation with a woman in front of me. She explained how she had just relocated from West Palm Beach. We discussed the "change of pace" and some of the differences she would inevitably encounter. As I was leaving, she was speaking very graphically about why she came to walmart to buy some new scrubs. She loudly used the following terms with the cashier - urine, blood and fecal matter. Apparently, this nurse wanted everyone at the check-out to hear her words. In the parking lot, a younger woman she was with (I think it was her sister) saw me loading up my car and proclaimed, "Hey, she's single!" I responded, "Thanks, I'm good."

looting

Another bold prediction...
It seems to me that there could be some unintended consequences of all this capitalistic consumerism and the recent advent of acquiring instantaneuos information. Try to follow me here. You have all these retail outlets which increasingly stock small and expensive items. Specifically stuff like laptops, video gaming devices, medication, etc. Wouldn't it be possible to sign up (via the interent) for some kind of notification, sent by whoever, that there will be a mass looting spree at this particular store or general location. I'm talking about smash and grab - nothing too fancy. Basically, you'd be notified via your cell phone that a mob will quickly appear at a certain location. In increasingly difficult economic times, there are a lot of people out there who'd have no qualms about committing acts of blatant theft against big corporations if they know they could get away with it. You might ask, what about the law enforcement or security cameras. That probably wouldn't be a factor if the place gets torched immediately following the instant looting/wilding spree.
I'm just mentioning this because I see a certain inevitablity here. You can't just have all these retail outlets keep popping up without a negative backlash. There's got to be some form of checks and balances with this.

Olive Garden (of Eden). NOT!

Yesterday was a historic one indeed. Obama and Huckabee pulled off huge upsets and won the Iowas caucases. Of far greater importance, I disobeyed a lifelong tenet. I visited a restaurant that had been open only a week or so. I've often stressed the importance of waiting about a month before going to a newly opened restaurant for the initial visit. This way, they've worked out all the "kinks" with the food, service, etc.
Anyway, Jenn and I were at Walmart and decided to go for it. We arrived at the Olive Garden in the Highlands around 7:30pm. The place was packed and about a baker's dozen of people were waiting to be seated. It only took about 5 minutes for the giant blinking buzzer disc to start vibrating. I spotted Paigey in the distance, but I don't think she saw me.
We were seated in the back. Paigey was hustling about and briefly stopped to chit chat. Our waitress had a jarheadish, bleached-blond butchie kind of haircut. She was bit curt and abrupt. Jenn ordered coffee and water. I requested a Miller lite, but was quickly informed that they didn't have any Miller Lite products since New Years. Kind of a surprise that they wouldn't restock. I then opted for a Coors Light - none of that in stock either. Faced with the horrific prospect of Bud or Bud Light, I opted for a water with lemon. Our drinks came shortly thereafter. Jenn got an entire pitcher of coffee (nice touch) and I received my water (sans lemon).
Jenn ordered the eggplant parmesan and I selected the shrimp calabrese. Our militaristic waitress soon returned with the salad and breadsticks. She aggressively placed the bowls on the table and they made a distinctive clang. Jenn noticed all the other diners were offered freshly, grated cheese. We were denied this opportunity although I did see our waitress walking around with the mozzerella machine. Jenn quietly mentioned to me that she wanted cheese, more salad with up to 5 pepperoncinis and a surplus of black olives. I didn't think it would be a good idea to "rock the boat." Just in the nick of time, Paigey showed up and proceeded to solidify, or if you prefer "saladify", our order.
Our food was delivered by a young girl, making her first and only appearance of the night. I noticed something was wrong immediately. I didn't get the right order. But I glanced at Jenn's plate and she had the right one so I harkened back to my earlier thoughts. Don't rock the boat, Saf. I started eating and Paigey swung through and said, "Oh you got the seafood portifino, great choice. Mmmmm." Before I could respond, she was out my vocal range. I thought to myself, oh well, one out of two ain't bad. I'll just eat it and go with the flow. As Jenn, sliced into her eggplant parmesan, she was alarmed with the turgid nature of the eggplant. Alas, much to her dismay, it was not eggplant. It was chicken. Now I must admit, eggplant and chicken parmesan do look pretty similar. As we're discussing the fact that they gave us both the wrong food, here comes our stern waitress (with slightly lesbianic overtones). "Listen you guys. I'm really sorry. We gave you the wrong order." All the time, she must have been secretly thinking - how could these two idiots not know what they ordered. We admitted that we kind of figured it out, but we were just kind of "going with the flow." We thought about the other couple who probably would have been a little more disurbed - not everyone loves eggplant. And I must admit, I really would have preferred the garlic & tomato/olive oil base as opposed to the fettucini alfredo sauce. I've gained about 5 pounds over the winter and have made a genuine recent attempt to avoid eating a stick of butter with 3 cups of heavy whipping cream.
Our waitress continued a brief apology and even Paigey got involved. Are you absolutely sure you want to eat that?" "Yeah, that cool. Everything is fine." They subliminally placed the blame on the young server girl, which in all likelihood was the true source of the mix-up. No big deal though.
As our dining experience neared its conclusion, I pondered the thought - will she bill us for what we ordered or what we actually consumed. My shrimp calabrese would have been a few bucks more than that seafood thing. When our waitress returned with the "to-go boxes," she wished us a happy New Year and said the meal was on us. How cool is that. I kind of assumed they wouldn't have the audacity to charge us for the wrong order, but we were partially to blame too. I mean, what kind of bozos both eat the wrong meal. We tipped her a twenty which seemed appropriate since it was a kick-down meal.
As we exited, we bid Paigey a farewell. Amid the crying babies and the screaming children at the adjacent table, as well as the shrill sounds of the background Pavarotti knock-off over the sound system it all became apparent. When you go to the Olive Garden, YOU TRULY ARE FAMILY.

the other favorite concerts

These are some additional favortie concerts. No major incidents, just great shows in no particular order...

Jane's Addiction - AJ Palumbo Center, Duquesne University - 1991
I cruised up with Mark Infantino. On our way back to the car, some concertgoer said, "Hey, check out that bumper sticker. That's cool." It was the "He's Gone" bumper sticker on my Omni. In a strange way, it paralleled my existense during the early 1990's.

Phish - KSU Mac Center, Kent State University - 1994
A large crew of us went to this one - probably about a dozen. My first Phish show. The energy level was insane. I remember watching this hippie dude stealing beer from a vendor on the arena floor while doing some unusual "mother shabooboo" dance moves.

Foo Fighters - Chevrolet Ampitheatre, Pittsburgh, PA - 2003
Just a total rock show. I'm a huge fan of Dave Grohl.

Prince - Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh, PA - 2004
I saw Prince at the same venue during the late 1990's. That show was pathetic. This one was unbelieveable. It was me, Amanda, and the indomitable April Green.

Farm Aid - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2002
A ton of us went. Phenomenal dumpster parking and just an overall great time. When we were leaving, I kicked some kids out of their chairs by the steps. "Oh, are these yours. We're sorry." I just mumbled, "No big deal." Snagged the chairs, threw them in the hatch and said, "Now we're done." I still have those chairs compliments of Weirton Rent-a-Center.

Beastie Boys - CSU Convocation Center, Cleveland, Ohio - 1998
After begging just about everyone I knew to go up, the best I could muster up was Bill Samms from the 440 N. Front Street House of Death. Needless to say, he remained consistently silent the whole night. The concert made up for it though.

Fleetwood Mac - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1997
Went up with a small crew. Angie Szalay ran over a dead deer carcas on the way there. Total energy show. There's something intrigueing about Christie McVie. The other girl, not so much.

Live - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1995
Place was packed. It was their Throwing Copper tour. After the show, we were doing long range soccer kicks. The ball was careening off peoples' cars as they left the parking lot. Windhields, doors, the little parking security trailor. Nothing was immune to the soccer ball. People were pissed off. We couldn't stop laughing. When we finally left the lot, I took out about a dozen barrels in the Maxima.

X-Fest - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2000
I know, I know. Everyone has their stories of multple lawn chair fires and people throwing giant hunks of dirt from the lawn. This has happened many times at the festival shows up there, but never like this one. Dunkle danced around the fires like a wild injun. Stone Temple Pilots closed this one out, but Cypress Hill was the the highlight.

Death Angel/Rigor Mortis 1988

Death Angel is one of the baddest metal bands on the planet. It didn't take much coaxing for a crew of us to go see the "Frolic Through the Park" tour at Bogarts in Cincinnati. The guys from the Trash house (Mike, Steve and Cleve) and me, Anthony Semirale and Ed Montgomery all made our way to the familiar concert hall. Trasher Mike was a huge Rigor Mortis fan. He would look at you in this drunken, stoned haze and recite their lyrics.

Your body's in slices. You're in six fuckin' pieces. Bodily Dismemberment.

That pretty much set the tone. When Rigor Mortis came out, the place went berzerk. A very rough pit. I steered clear but when Death Angel opened with "Mind Rape," I found myself in the middle of it all. An absolute killer show. Definitely in my all-time top 5. After the show was over, we were partying with the band in the back alley. For some reason, they had a real tour bus. This was a bit unusual for a band of their stature. They invited us on the bus. I bought a t-shirt and had the whole band sign it. I'd have it for a few years until this complete dumbshit who lived in my Wheeling Island apt. for two weeks snagged it. The sad truth is, he was a fake white thug rapper. I think his name was Rob. He was a complete waste, but his girlfriend (my neighbor) Tameka was pretty cool. I can't even fathom what happened to either of them.
I spent some time talking with the drummer who was a little worried about openly drinking Corona. He admitted to me, "Hey, I'm only 15." This struck me as really odd. At the time, I was 19.

Testament at the City Limits, 1988

I'm pretty sure this was my first "real" metal show. I was a senior in high school and by virtue of the fact that I had a driver's license and access to a vehicle, it would fall on me. I remember it was me, Jepson, and two others (probably Ricer, Mulvey, Neuhardt, or Shawn White (who, to this day, still annoys the fuck out of me). Testament was scheduled to play at this abandoned roller skating rink formerly known as The City Limits in Penn Hills, PA. I recall pulling into the lot and checking out the line of metalheads. We were in heaven. This was the first real show for all of us. We're milling around and all of a sudden an old van pulls up and Chuck Billy (the lead singer) jumps out of the back. We were BLOWN away. You cannot put this into words - it was the equivalent of some Princess Di fanatic having a wine spritzer with Elton John. That's what we're talking about. We got some of the band members to sign our memorabalia. I bought my first "legit" metal concert t-shirt - THE NEW ORDER w/ all the tour dates.
We walked into the venue and realized that we could walk up and touch the stage. There were only one or two rows of people before the show commenced. All in all, I'd say about 500 people attended this show. The band Vio-lence opened. The lead singer would continually hurled himself backwards into the crowd and the fans would push him back onto the stage. This blew me away. I'd never seen anything like it. I think I was a bit starstruck at the time. Honestly, I idolized these bands and there they were, about 5 feet in front of me. The lead singer was wearing a 1-900 DOMINATRIX t-shirt. It was getting ripped too shreds. I'll never forget the picture of the woman with a whip.
Testament opened with "Into the Pit." Great choice. They also played "Over the Wall." Little did I know, Jepson would coin the phrase "Over the Wall" in reference to pissing outside the urinal. We stopped at a McDonalds on the way home and everyone (except me) purposely pissed outside the urinal. We saw a McDonalds employee heading into the bathroom. As we exited the restaurant, we heard him say "Ohhh, no."

RATM - 1997

The unlikely foursome of Mark I., Mandy B., Jepsonian and myself hit the Rage Against the Machine show at Starlake about 10 years ago. This was a rowdy crowd. Great tailgating atmosphere. Jepson was surprised by the attendance. I was not. We somehow managed to snag one of the boxes in the reserved seating area. For some reason, they didn't try to kick us out. Usually, they can be pretty persistent. Wu Tang Clan opened but I recall very little of their performance. The lights went down and Rage came out. The whole ampitheatre really went nuts. Stray bodies were charging in from the lawn area. Usually, people try to be pretty discreet when they sneak into the seats. You look for a moment when the security is distracted or the usher guy is showing someone to their seats. Not this time. These mororns would come running down the hill and hurdle themsleves over the barrier. One of the security guys resembled Fuzzy the Bear, but much taller and lankier. Anyway, he spotted some cro-magnon dude and went after him. I had my doubts about whether he'd succeed. Sure enough, Fuzzy emerges from the pit area. He's dazed and confused and it looks like he got his nose broken. Blood streaming down his face as the other security guys help him off. There's a good lesson in there - if you're only getting paid minimum wage, don't try to be a hero.
On the way out of the lot, I tried to weave through traffic to get to the front. I accidentally scraped this one guy's Imapala. I jumped out of the car, explained how sorry I was, told him we didn't need the cops coming and handed the guy 70 bucks. It was all the money I had on me. I think he was amazed that I offered anything. The actual damage probably cost a few hundred. I jumped back in the car and took off in the other direction. Everyone in my car looked at me like I was nuts. Jepson said, "How'd you get away with that." I responded, "Let's get the fucka outta here."

Pearl Jam - 2000

Dunkle and I cruised up to Starlake for the Pearl Jam show back in the late summer/early fall of 2000. We snagged the usual dumpster spot at the top of the steps and set up shop. The Maxima was nearing its demise. Right next to us was a giant bin filled with ice and Citra. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Citra, it's kind of like Fresca but without the nutrasweet/aspartame zing. They even had a male and female Citra representative from Coca Cola. I guess they were there to field questions and oversee giveaway operations. Anyway, I snagged a few gargabe bags from the "beer bottle police" and went to work. When the Citra reps moved off, I went to the bin and started filling up. Probably made about 5 separate Citra trips. I was loading up the trunk of the Maxima until it was full and then started in on the back seat. During one of the final trips, an undercover had busted this girl for underage drinking. He had her cornered up against my car and was filling out the citation. She's crying up a storm. Meanwhile, here I am on an entirely different mission. I'm hauling the garbage bag of Citra and it busts open leaving a trail of cans. I look at them both as I approach my car. "Excuse me you guys, I need to get in here." The cop gazes at me with this look of disbelief as I start dumping the garbage bag full of cans. Even the girl temporarily ceased her crying as she had trouble figuring out exactly what was transpiring. After all that commotion died down, we started to make our way into the venue. I saw the female Citra rep and she was back in action, promoting her cause and offering up free refreshment. She looked at me and asked if I'd like a sample can. I told her, "no, that would be stealing." She assured me that it was complimentary and I could have as many as I'd like. I told her that it just made me uncomfortable - getting something for nothing. After a few more back and forths, she just shrugged her shoulders and said ok. We continued hooping it up and slamming beers. For some reason, we decided to walk down to the other entrance. Before we left, I approached the Citra girl and told her I needed to show her something. She walked with me over to the car. I popped the trunk and, lo and behold, there were about 300 cans of Citra and the back seat probably had a couple cases in there as well. She looked at me with the same sense of disbelief the cop gave me an hour earlier. In fact, the trunk was so full, the car was weighted down. My struts were in pretty bad shape leading up to the incident to begin with.
We waited until the crowd died down and Dunkle decided to sneak some beers into the show. He lined his shorts with 3 beers. I was a little skepical of his brazenness because they ask you to lift up your shirt and spin around. Sure enough, the girl asks him to lift up his shirt. Dunkle complies and a beer can hits the ground and starts spraying her. Dunkle looks at her and points to a large pile of confiscated blankets. "These are mine." He picks up the stack and walks off into the distance. The same look of incredulity. This time from the gate attendant. All these looks of astonishment, wonderment and awe. You'd think these morons had never seen a rock concert.
Great show. They played a long encore and it was getting cold so we bolted. As the Maxima limped off the lot (due to the weight of the Citra), I came to the conclusion that it might be time for a new car. Unfortunately, that would lead to the worst decision I ever made - the 1997 Jeep Grand Cherokee aka shake, rattle and roll. However, on a lighter note, there would be plenty of Citra giveaways for weeks to follow.

Oasis - 1998

Cleopatra Carmen and I went up to this show at the AJ Palumbo Center. She got her neighbor to babysit and we rolled up in the Maxima. We got a late start and she was a little nervous about my driving - just keeping up with traffic. We skipped the opening act and made our way in. We walked down to the floor during the break and found some seats about 10 rows back. There was this diminutive kid in front of us who resembled the lead singer. Looked exactly like him. He even had the same mannerisms and identical gestures. We both found this really amusing. They band came out on stage as if they were playing a massive stadium in Europe, not a basketball arena at the Duquesne University. They had this total arrogance about them. The lead singer would frequently drink from his water bottle and spray the crowd. He must have gone through a 12 pack that night. As pompous as the band was, they definitely rocked. Just a straight-up pure rock concert.
After the concert, I told Carmen that we had to zip by 3 Rivers Stadium and check out the tail-gating scene. She was very skeptical but I explained that the Denver (-2) at Pittsburgh AFC Championship game was the next day at 1pm. I was pretty sure it would be a lively tailgating scene, despite the fact that it was bitter cold. Sure enough, there were a bunch of cars waiting to get on the main lot. We hung out at a few tailgates, but the one I really remember was these rednecks in a van with PA plates. They actually had a live black pig with them. Its name was Slash and if the Steelers lost tomorrow, they were going to "slash, Slash and grill/eat the pig right on the spot." If you could see the look in their eyes, you knew these guys weren't fucking around.
Broncos 24
Steelers 21
That poor pig. He probably never saw it coming.

King Diamond/Flotsam - 1988

My old friend Ed Montgomery and I wanted to go see King Diamond at Bogarts in Cincinnati. No vehicle though. So we enlisted the help of a strange upperclassman named Rob. Actually, he was alright but his driving made us both a bit nervous. He seemed to jerk the wheel a bit too much. We cruised down to the club and ran into some other Daytonites - Trasher Mike, Steve, Cleve and Anthony Semirale - aka Stone.
Flotsam and Jetsam opened the show and a huge pit emerged in front us. I'm a little leery of charging into these pits - it's a good way to get a bloody nose or at the very least, stomped on. Instead, I like to hover on the outskirts. Every once in a while you get bumped around but it's no big deal. Also, you don't have some fat ass who's sweating profusely rub up against you. That is not my idea of a good time. Flotsam rocked. During the set break, I saw the stage manager (Ole Bang, that's really his name) helping set things up. I asked him if we could get an autograph of the King and he surprisingly was very cool with it. In fact, he claimed to remember me. I thought that was odd but played along. After the show, Ed and I were led backstage. There was a a very peculiar dude in the corridor holding a clock. He asked us if were going to meet King Diamond and I said "that's the plan." He explained how he was hoping to get his clock signed - on the face of the clock was a painting of King Diamond's head (full satanic makeup and it looked pretty sharp). We also met these two groupie chicks from Dayton who we'd run into a few more times at these metal shows. I forget their names.
Anyway, Ole Bang comes up to us and says "the King is ready to see you." Ed and I open the door and there he is - no makeup. I must say, the King looked pretty haggard. Must have been worn out from all that screeching and that bizarre stage show. Anybody who has seen King Diamond would know what I'm talking about. He opened his mouth and in a haunting soft voice said "Come forward." Ed and I look at each other and nervously approached. He asked us if we enjoyed the show and we both mumbled "Yes, Mr. Diamond." He then signed my fan club letter which I kept in my wallet for years. He wrote the standard KING DIAMOND with two inverted crosses on both sides. I wish I still had that memento. Maybe I'll search through my files.
This wasn't the best show I've seen. I thought Flotsam was much better, but no way was I going to miss King D on that Welcome Home tour. All his friends were there - Missy, some giant mummy/Frankenstein thing, and don't forget Grandma. Not one of the best shows, but probably one of the strangest. It's always time for tea.

Paul McCartney - Cincy, 1989

In anticipation of a big sold-out one stand at the Riverfront Coliseum, I decided to buy as many tickets as I could for an upcoming Paul McCartney show. I slept out overnight with a buddy (Ed Montgomery) of mine in front of a department store in downtown Dayton. When they opened the doors, we charged to the ticketmaster machine in the back of the store easily outrunning everyone in the place. We each bought 8 tickets (the maximum). Our plan was to scalp them without even going to the show. Just put up a few flyers around campus. Needless to say, we got rid of them in no time. People at the back of the line were quite upset when they announced the show had sold-out in a record 45 minutes. Not the fastest sell-out by today's Hannah Montana standards, yet rather impressive for the late 1980's.
Anyway, one of the calls I got was from a sophmore girl who lived a floor below me. She was very interested in buying 2 tickets and taking her mother to the show. I told her I was out of tix, but still planned on going to the concert if she was interested. This was back in the day where we'd go to Bogarts (a club on Vine Street near UC) and purchase 3 buck tickets for some kind of waltzing fest. Then, we'd just use them at the coliseum. It worked just about every time. In fact, I used that same method to get in to my first dead show (also at Riverfront). Anyway, I explained the process to her and she was very skeptical but still wanted to go to the show. I think her name was Linda. Anyway, we got together and made plans. I asked to borrow this guy Steve's Nissan Stanza provided I fill it up and give him a case of long neck Bud bottles - that was the price. In retrospect, not that big a deal.
Anyway, we made it down to Cincinnati and tickets were going for big bucks. All of downtown was really whipped into a frenzy for this one. I think the mayor even gave Paul McCartney the "key to the city" - whatever, the fuck that meant at the time. Wow - what an honor to bestow upon someone - the city with the highest percentage of rapes, violent crime and murder per capita. Nice.
We merged into a huge line of people waiting to get in. They actually had a "checkpoint" set up to verify that you did indeed have a ticket. We flashed our tickets and walked right through. Linda, or Lisa, or whatever her name was confided that she was very nervous and didn't think it was going to work. I assured her we did this all the time. Just follow my lead. I looked for the oldest ticket-taker. It was a 75 year old who probably had never even heard of the Beatles. I made some small talk as he ripped my ticket - I honestly think it was a 3 dollar ticket stub for some kind of dance/waltz contest or maybe something called Buckwheat Zydeco. Anyway, not bad considering tickets were going for a couple hundred right outside.
Anyway, we looked for seats on the upper tier in the back of the arena but like I said, totally sol-out. So we sat in the aisle which made us fodder for the flashlight police. When the lights went out, the place erupted. They opened with a generally mellow song - Figure of Eight, which to this day I still like. The setlist is from a live recording of "Tripping the Live Fantastic" - an absolutely killer live cd.
Anyway, the Linda girl ran into someone she knew and they crowded her in with them a few rows ahead as the flashlight dude persisted. Fortunately an older couple saw my plight and "took me in to their row." I felt bad since my presence made it a little cramped, but I didn't have much of a say in the matter. They even got me high. Unfortunately, I put my finger on the top of the pipe instead of the side carb thing. It burned the fuck out of my finger and made the rest of the evening very uncomfortable. My finger actually throbbed in pain the entire night - it was that bad. No exaggeration.
This concert is definitely in my all-time top 5. Great show. Great crowd. Super-charged atmosphere. As we drove back to Dayton, I couldn't help but notice "how dark it was outside.
I asked Linda why I couldn't see any of the cars that would pass us. She ignored my questions and kept talking about how great the show was and how she wished she could have seen it with her mom. We were on two totally different wavelengths. I persisted about the "degree of darkness" and asked her to get me a beer out of the cooler in the back. When she turned around, she looked back at me and said, "Eric, do you know the trunk is up?" In retrospect, maybe that's why the ride home was a black-out.

Grateful Dead - Chicago, Soldier Field 1991

This was my favorite dead show, hands down. I drove up with the infamous Lowe brothers and this other guy Rob Kohnfelder. A couple years later, I would grow to truly despise two of them. So much for the peace and love theory. We spent some time on the Southside of Chicago buying tons of beer at a distributor. Tom and John bought about a dozen cases which really weighed the car down. The suspension was bad enough on my little Charger 024 Omni. I miss that car - it was the original Saf mobile or as my father referred to it "the fucking jalopy and eyesore to the neighborhood." We arrived at the parking lot around noon and the place was filling up rapidly. I parked near these college kids who were dispensing 8 nitrous tanks. As the day wore on and the lines grew, I got to know them pretty well. They explained how they were from Cornell University, snagged a bunch of tanks and decided to hit the show. There were 4 of them - all business majors, go figure. They had given the security cops $100 a piece with a promise of another $100 each at the end of the night. Probably a good idea, since the lines were 20 people deep and the swooshing noise form the tanks was loud. At one time, they actually had two lines formed. This pissed off Tom at first since he was trying to sell imports and these guys were making a mint selling hippie crack. He eventually would sell all his beer anyway. The Cornell foursome probably netted about $16,000. Not bad for a days work. Not sure if they went into the show or not. I never even found out if they were Dead fans.
I had an interesting run-in with this Asian kid in the middle of the afternoon. We were standing by the car and we noticed this one hippie riding his bicycle while simultaneously hitting a nitrous balloon. I look to the Asian kid and said "that doesn't look like such a good idea." Before I could finish the sentence, the hippie slammed into a parked car and hit the pavement. The balloon went flying and he was pretty skinned up. Fortunately, he didn't crack his head. After a couple of minutes, the banged-up hippie managed to get to his feet and ride off. I started talking with the Asian kid - he told me his name was James. James and I started walking the lot talking about a variety of topics - where you from, you got a ticket for the show, the usual stuff. He then said that his band was playing tonight and told me "We should go check them out. I'm not going into the show tonight. I've got to play, but I wanted to come down here in the afternoon and check out the scene." I told him I was going to the concert and I doubted my traveling companions would be interested in seeing his show since we were heading to Kansas for another Dead show (that's another story). He mentioned that they were about to embark on a tour and said they'd be playing in Pittsburgh in a few weeks. I asked where and he said the Metropol. I was impressed and mentioned that the place holds almost 1,500. "Are you guys really that big?" He repsonded, "Oh yeah, there's about 4,000 people coming to our gig tonight. We're from Chicago and we're starting a tour to support our national release." I was a little blown away. We ended up hanging out for a couple hours. Right before we split to go into the show, I asked him, "Hey, what's the name of your band anyway?" He looked at me and quietly responded "The Smashing Pumpkins." A year or so later, it dawned on me that it was James Iha - guitarist of the Smashing Pumpkins. I always like that story.
Before the show, there was much speculation of the opener. Lots of people wanted to hear Shakedown Street which hadn't been played all tour. I explained that there's no way because it was Bob's night to open. They'll probably open the second set with it. On the way in, I noticed 2 great personalized license plates - one said "BUCKET", the other "SHKDWN." I wished I'd had my camera on me since I used to take pics of dead plates, but I had left it in the car. We walked by this group of crazed hippie/college kids and they were smashing beer bottles on the lot. Just for the hell of it, I guess. Laughing up a storm and probably tripping their brains out.
We made it into the stadium right after the opening act. The weather was crisp and really windy. The sky was filled with a ton of colors and constant lightning strikes, but it never rained. They hit the stage and the place went nuts. Bob opened with Hell in a Bucket and Jerry would follow with Shakedown Street. This would be my all-time favorite dead opener. I couldn't have written a better setlist. I loved this whole show. Just had a tremendous vibe. A one-night stand at Soldier Field. Now I get it. They closed out the second set with One More Saturday Night and encored with The Weight. Quite simply, my favorite dead show out of about 50. Like I said, now I get it.