Between these tavern walls

Saturday was the last gig with The Resistors. It couldn't have gone off much better, truth be told. We were at a regular haunt of ours, The Music Box. It's a shitkicker of a bar, known only to locals of Weston who don't have the dollars for the nicer bars in town. Whiskey Tango. Perfect crowd for us.

I imagined that the last show would be a tearful farewell, with lots of sappiness and safely hetero back slapping hugs. It was just too much fun to get all choked up, though. We played probably our best set ever right off the bat, and from then on it was dancing, smart assing, and hard rocking blues. It was perfect. At the end of the night, the owner had to cut us off. We were ready for more, even after playing for four hours.

I thought when I joined a band that I was building a hobby. I didn't think I would be developing brothers, a support group, or a piece of my own soul. But I did. I'm not exactly the rock star type; never good looking enough or desirous of that much attention. But damn I love playing on stage. It gets me going when people get up and dance, or when you look out and realize the whole bar is singing along. I even like the smell of beer, smoke, sweat, and pheromones that I reek of as I load my amp back into my truck at the end of the night.

So how do you celebrate a show like that with your buddies? How do you wrap it all up with just the right bow? Waffle House.

I will miss these guys, and the band I helped build. They have a new bassist who is a great guy and a fantastic musician, so they'll still be going strong. As for me, I know that I will just have to find some Sultans of Swing to call my own in San Antonio. It's in my blood. It makes my heart pound.