OPENING NIGHT, PARIS! You Make the Call, Goth Bar Denial!

by David Urbanic
Observer, Documenter, Implementer

What more to say? Opening night in Paris. Deal with it.

Opening night brought a day to preceed itself. The band started the morning with double espresso’s at the local Tabac. Bryan countered this with, not only a fresh squeezed $6.50 orange juice, but with his part of a “Weber Brother Quad-Pack.” The “Quad Pack” stands not only for testicles between them, but their monumental effort in producing four stools a piece in “the City of Light.” Bryan’s started before the completion of his fresh squeezed OJ. In short, he smoked out the overweight Frenchman who made the mistake of enjoying his jambon y poulet y fromage baguette (saquette) near the stool receptacle.

What followed the monument of creation, sculpted by the elder Weber, was a knock down, drag out fight between the Cousins Sharkey. Apparently, Terry made the mistake of awaking from his slumber in the wee hours of the morning, abandoning his post, only to have it claimed by Ian. Item of some contention? You BET! Epithets, slurs, and backbiting were awry in the late morning hours, quelled only by a necessary egress to a preposterous call-time at the club, Le Zebre, of 1pm for an 8pm show.

The first show of what is already amounting to be a collosal European tour was a tremendous success! The French piled into the world famous Le Zebre de Belleville to partake in the rollicking rhythms of cross-pond jammers Zelazowa, and hometown heroes Timeout and Reno! All went well, despite an uncomfortable interlude with Bryan Weber’s voracious wannabe-lover, Constance, who had chased him down the late night Parisian streets earlier in the week, and Timeout lead singer, Fil, who as fate would have it, bled profusely all over Kyle Weber’s guitar (for the second time) when he borrowed it after destroying his own axe.

The after party was a powder keg of emotion and libido, quelled only by the inability of the Zelazowa/Timeout entourage to be admitted to, or served at any local watering holes. The Hideout refused them entry due to lack of female companionship. The Guinness Bar refused them service, as did the local Goth/Metal haunt, for (among other things, such as lack of black clothing and tattoos) being American! Another example for our ongoing commentary on French stereotype, or just a bucket of cold water in the face to alert the Gentlemen Z and Timeout of their overwhelming nerdiness!? You make the call!

Other highlights of the evening included the imbibation of copious amounts of French wine and Cointreau, and the not-so surprising disappearance of a certain Sharkey in the company of an undefined number of ladyfolk! Tryst or simple “dish city” kidnapping? YOU MAKE THE CALL!

The morrow brings forth a lengthy jaunt to Nantes, France! Keep posted for more calls that you might be required to make!

PS-Moments prior to this post, the triumphant return of the trysted/kidnapped Sharkey in question disproves all misconceived notions of both trysts and kidnappings. It turns out Terry Sharkey (whoops! giveaway!) instead found himself drinking a six pack of 1664 Beer at a Belleville poetry slam for a period of time, before becoming disgruntled and renting a bicycle (at FOUR A.M.!) to find his way back home! Whew! It’s going to be a loooong drive to Nantes!