I was working on something earlier that got me thinking about this one night a bazillion years ago, long before I started Shot In The Dark Mysteries when I was in Corporate Canada and primarily writing fiction. It was one of the most ridiculous, crazy-Hollywood-movie type of evenings and I remembered I wrote a blog post on it when I kept a writer’s memoire-type blog called The Spinning Pen.
*sigh* Ah, the olden days. Anyhow, through the power of the Internet, I actually found not only the old post but my old blog. A lot has changed since November 14, 2005 – smoking laws, professions, the quality of my writing… but I have a feeling the little pizza joint/pub in Dundalk is still the same. I was living in my home town of Calgary but working on a long-term project in Halifax and had abused my free flight to have a weekend with a friend in Toronto. We ended up being roadies for an AC/DC coverband in a tiny town called Dundalk in Ontario. I had to share it – this is just for fun, enjoy!
This weekend was interesting to say the least. I have to warn everyone – the computer I am on does not give me proper punctuation, because it is set on a French keyboard function. So if it seems like I am having an apostrophe catastrophe, thatès why. SeeÉ!É!
This weekend I took my free flight from the company and flew to Toronto to see my girlfriend, Jenn. On Saturday night we played roadies for an ACDC cover band called Bare Rump. I am not an ACDC fan by any stretch of the imagination, and I thought these guys (and gals) were good.
Dundalk seemed to provide just as much entertainment for us as the band did for them. Interesting to say the least! First, one of every three people had a mullet, women included. I havenèt seen that kind of hair since the 80s! My next surprise though, came when two Menonite men walked in, ordered drinks and started dancing! Soon, the girls with the feathered, back-combed hair were wearing their hats.
Then, while I was outside having a cigarette, the bouncer (quote unquote, but my quotes arent working) frisked me to make sure I wasnt sneaking out alcohol, then bought me two shots of tequilla, showed me the entrance and exit point of his bullet wound from the Gulf War and then demonstrated five ways he could kill me where I stood.
A guy pulled me up to dance. He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of himself on the front. I immediately sat down.
Later, Jenn went to the ladies and found the guy with the picture of himself on his t-shirt doing something with a woman Blogspot would shut me down for describing.
Deliverance began playing on the television. Im not joking, folks. I have pictures to prove it.
A drunk guy fell on Jenn and knocked her out of her chair.
A small guy struck up a conversation with me. He seemed quite normal, and I was glad to have someone to talk to who wasn’t totally off their head. About five minutes into the conversation, the guy wearing a t-shirt of himself stumbled up and asked, “Vijay, who’s watching the gas station?!” The guy gasped, got up and ran out the door.
I slipped outside for another cigarette, and this extremely drunk guy started a conversation with his back to the door. He told me he loves living in Dundalk, and informed me how peaceful it is and how nice everyone is there. As he was telling me this, the bouncer threw – yes, literally THREW a guy through the door, shattering the glass, and then put him in a strangle hold and tackled him to the ground.
Another fight broke out and they shut down the band. Someone stole my beer. The cops were supposedly on their way (surely to investigate said beer theft), but probably got distracted on their way out to Dundalk and never arrived.
We packed up the equipment and were having one final cigarette at 3 am before hitting the road. Beside us a few feet away, a guy fell face-first into the dirt, drunk and unconscious. Of the 10 or so people standing there, no one moved to help him.
He is probably, at this moment, lying in the dirt parking lot.
One night in Dundalk
