Skanks For The Memories


Thanks to all the Nashville bloggers for not making it to Coyote Ugly last night.  You chose wisely.  About ten people were there when I walked in about 5:30.  It may have grown to two dozen over the course of the evening. The manager said that was busy for them during happy hour.  Evidently the place is packed later in the evening.  You wouldn’t know it from the size of the happy hour crowd.   So you have twenty-thirty people, all trying to have conversations in small groups, being interrupted by the bar chicks "spontaneously" getting up and shaking their asses in your face.  Not that I’m complaining, but it was sort of like when a little kid wants your attention when you are talking on the phone.  "Hey, look at me!  Lookit!  Lookit!"  I was confused as to the protocol for the bar dancing.  In my experience, one normally shoves dollar bills into the dancer’s garter belt after a dance performance such as that.  I was urged by those around me that it would be inappropriate.  Sorry,  I didn’t realize how high up the brass totem pole of ass shakin’ you girls were.  The disturbing part of the evening came later, when drunk Grandma, vacationing here from East Jockstrap, Wisconsin, got up and shook that ass.  Check please.

Last night I got to be the arm jewelry for the ex-Mrs. Sarcastro.  We haven’t had that nice of an evening together in this century.  It was like old times.  Robert Earl Keen was part of the soundtrack for our married life, so that made the night perfect and brought back memories of good times past.  We were backstage in the VIP area prior to the show.  I shook Mr. Keen’s hand and was photographed with him.  Amusingly, Ex-Mrs. Sarcastro missed out on that bit. 

The show itself was great, despite a low attendance due to the weather.  We moved to the other VIP section in Frontierland Fort Nashborough.  I chatted up the Coyote Ugly management.   They were so nice, I had to stop myself from telling them that the Nashville blog community has a unfavorable view of their establishment.  My problem with their joint boils down to this:  I don’t want to go to a bar that is based on a movie that is based on a bar;  I just want a drink.  The rest is parsley.

At the end of the evening I walked ex-Mrs. Sarcastro to her car, gave her a peck on the cheek and parted as friends.  Just like old times. 


3 Responses to “Skanks For The Memories”

  1. Steve Riley Says:

    It’s good to hear that ex Mrs-Sarcastro is doing well. I’m way overdue talking with her.

  2. roboto Says:

    I did the same thing as you did; I walked through about 5:30 and looked for familar faces and then bolted. Thanks for the invite though.

  3. Sarcastro Says:

    I must have arrived right after you split, Roboto. I waited until 5:30 sharp to park out on Commerce. It’s when the towing away stops and the Festival of Free Parking begins.

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