The Joan Jett Show Story
So I saw Joan Jett at Bluesville the other night. This was my 8th time seeing her live. I cannot describe the chill of pure joy I feel when I see her hit the stage and launch into Cherry Bomb or Bad Reputation. Actually, if I had to list my Top Ten Moments of Pure Joy In Life, it would read something like this:
1. Joan Jett live
2. Joan Jett live
3. Joan Jett live
4. Joan Jett live
5. Joan Jett live
6. Joan Jett live
7. Joan Jett live
8. Joan Jett live
9. Whiskey
10. something or another involving some ex-girlfriend or another
If I see Joan Jett one more time live, "girlfriend" is getting bumped off the list.
So, anywho, before the show I decide to gamble a bit. (Bluesville is at the Horseshow Casino.) I don't want to get too involved in anything, so I just put a 20 into a dollar slot machine. 2 minutes later, I'm 20 bucks lighter. Cut to after the show, and about 8 bourbon and cokes later, I decide to put another 20 in a slot machine. I hit for $48! That's my 40 back, plus 8! I cashed out and headed back to Memphis! A winner!
Seeing a show in a casino is always a little weird. It's not like the days of the Rat Pack when everyone dressed up to go gamble and see a show. These days, especially in Mississippi, I think people wear worse clothes than they do at home. It's like some dude is sitting around the trailer in his boxer shorts and a wife-beater and his old lady says, "hey, let's go to the casino tonight!" And he says, "sure. just let me change out of my good clothes..."
Casinos like to comp shit for the real gamblers. Lose enough money and they'll give you a room. Win enough money and they'll give you a room. So you'll stay there longer and lose the money back. If you gamble for a decent amount of time, you can get a free buffet. And tickets to a show. If the show is not sold out, casino managers dole out free tix to gamblers. You can always tell who bought tix and who was comped. I was watching some of the people coming in to the Joan Jett show. Here comes some cute rocker chicks with tattoos. Here's some lesbians. Here's some old-time rockers. Here's two grannies in their 80's. WAIT!! COMPED TICKETS!! These slot-pullin' old gals have no idea who Joan Jett is. Some idiot casino manager went up to them and said, "ladies, would you like free tickets to tonight's show?" "A Show? Yes, that would be grand!" Like they are going to see Tom Jones or Mel Torme!? It's fucking JOAN JETT!! It's like watching calves being fed to raptors in Jurassic Park. Sure enough, ten minutes into the show, the Golden Girls come all walkerin' out. "well, that wasn't what I expected. Did she say "damn?"
A ways into the show, I stepped out into the lobby to smoke a butt as my northern friend Brittany would say. You can't smoke in Bluesville anymore, but you can step right outside the door to do so. You can still hear the music, and actually still see what's happening on stage. So it's me and about 6 chicks. We hear this commotion, look over at the door and see the bouncers shoving this guy out. This drunk guy. This old, fat drunk guy. He looked like your dad on crack. Tall, huge beer gut, cheesy stache, pink polo shirt, checkered shorts, loafers with no socks. He's screaming and cussin' and shouting. Drunk as shit. They get him into the lobby ( and around 5 feet from us, ) and on the way he spills his orange frozen drink thingee all over some gal's boobs. Drunk dad then shoves a bouncer who I will, for the sake of this story, call "Big Black Guy Who Probably Plays Football But Could Also Have A Career Opportunity As A Wall."
The Wall was totally professional, in that he was saying to the guy, "hey, look at me. look at me. don't worry about anyone else. tell me what's wrong. tell me what's wrong. we'll get it fixed." Drunk Dad flails around, jerks his arm around, and finally, while trying to cuss out and get away from The Wall, falls flat on the floor. And his shorts come off. And he's not wearing any underwear. So this old, fat drunk dad is rolling around on the floor with his ass and dick living the free life. The gals I'm with all start screaming, turning their heads and covering their eyes! "I can never un-see this!!" The Wall picks the guy up and helps him put his pants back on. The gals are still in shell-shock, making faces like they just ate some bad tuna.
Meanwhile, I'm taking it all in and say "I am so entertained right now." And that's without even talking about how f'n kick-ass Joan Jett was. Which she was. As always.
So I saw Joan Jett at Bluesville the other night. This was my 8th time seeing her live. I cannot describe the chill of pure joy I feel when I see her hit the stage and launch into Cherry Bomb or Bad Reputation. Actually, if I had to list my Top Ten Moments of Pure Joy In Life, it would read something like this:
1. Joan Jett live
2. Joan Jett live
3. Joan Jett live
4. Joan Jett live
5. Joan Jett live
6. Joan Jett live
7. Joan Jett live
8. Joan Jett live
9. Whiskey
10. something or another involving some ex-girlfriend or another
If I see Joan Jett one more time live, "girlfriend" is getting bumped off the list.
So, anywho, before the show I decide to gamble a bit. (Bluesville is at the Horseshow Casino.) I don't want to get too involved in anything, so I just put a 20 into a dollar slot machine. 2 minutes later, I'm 20 bucks lighter. Cut to after the show, and about 8 bourbon and cokes later, I decide to put another 20 in a slot machine. I hit for $48! That's my 40 back, plus 8! I cashed out and headed back to Memphis! A winner!
Seeing a show in a casino is always a little weird. It's not like the days of the Rat Pack when everyone dressed up to go gamble and see a show. These days, especially in Mississippi, I think people wear worse clothes than they do at home. It's like some dude is sitting around the trailer in his boxer shorts and a wife-beater and his old lady says, "hey, let's go to the casino tonight!" And he says, "sure. just let me change out of my good clothes..."
Casinos like to comp shit for the real gamblers. Lose enough money and they'll give you a room. Win enough money and they'll give you a room. So you'll stay there longer and lose the money back. If you gamble for a decent amount of time, you can get a free buffet. And tickets to a show. If the show is not sold out, casino managers dole out free tix to gamblers. You can always tell who bought tix and who was comped. I was watching some of the people coming in to the Joan Jett show. Here comes some cute rocker chicks with tattoos. Here's some lesbians. Here's some old-time rockers. Here's two grannies in their 80's. WAIT!! COMPED TICKETS!! These slot-pullin' old gals have no idea who Joan Jett is. Some idiot casino manager went up to them and said, "ladies, would you like free tickets to tonight's show?" "A Show? Yes, that would be grand!" Like they are going to see Tom Jones or Mel Torme!? It's fucking JOAN JETT!! It's like watching calves being fed to raptors in Jurassic Park. Sure enough, ten minutes into the show, the Golden Girls come all walkerin' out. "well, that wasn't what I expected. Did she say "damn?"
A ways into the show, I stepped out into the lobby to smoke a butt as my northern friend Brittany would say. You can't smoke in Bluesville anymore, but you can step right outside the door to do so. You can still hear the music, and actually still see what's happening on stage. So it's me and about 6 chicks. We hear this commotion, look over at the door and see the bouncers shoving this guy out. This drunk guy. This old, fat drunk guy. He looked like your dad on crack. Tall, huge beer gut, cheesy stache, pink polo shirt, checkered shorts, loafers with no socks. He's screaming and cussin' and shouting. Drunk as shit. They get him into the lobby ( and around 5 feet from us, ) and on the way he spills his orange frozen drink thingee all over some gal's boobs. Drunk dad then shoves a bouncer who I will, for the sake of this story, call "Big Black Guy Who Probably Plays Football But Could Also Have A Career Opportunity As A Wall."
The Wall was totally professional, in that he was saying to the guy, "hey, look at me. look at me. don't worry about anyone else. tell me what's wrong. tell me what's wrong. we'll get it fixed." Drunk Dad flails around, jerks his arm around, and finally, while trying to cuss out and get away from The Wall, falls flat on the floor. And his shorts come off. And he's not wearing any underwear. So this old, fat drunk dad is rolling around on the floor with his ass and dick living the free life. The gals I'm with all start screaming, turning their heads and covering their eyes! "I can never un-see this!!" The Wall picks the guy up and helps him put his pants back on. The gals are still in shell-shock, making faces like they just ate some bad tuna.
Meanwhile, I'm taking it all in and say "I am so entertained right now." And that's without even talking about how f'n kick-ass Joan Jett was. Which she was. As always.