I spent the other night listening to a Bob Dylan show from across the Cuyahoga River. I’m out of my contacts for a week and my glasses were prescribed a decade ago so there was no way I could have made out the figure of old Bob even if I had spent a large sum of cash on a ticket. It was a weird experience but I guess I should have predicted that. Sitting on a bench with a couple of hippies and a few ex-hippie yuppies, sipping a tall can of cheap beer and watching (or trying to) a family of ducks swim by.
My only complaint was that I had to piss REALLY badly and I was not drunk enough to resort to doing the homeless lean against a wall. Also the set list was weird; slow pacing and a lot of newer or obscure numbers. Or so I thought. Admittedly, I am not a huge Bob Dylan fan. I guess the fact that I would rather listen to him from a half of a mile away than see the show in person might have given that fact away. Still, I couldn’t pick out a single number that I knew well.
Then I found the set list online… I’m either deaf or daft.
‘That’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’, ‘When the Levee Breaks’, ‘Stuck Inside of Mobile’, ‘Highway 61 Revisited’, and an encore that closed with ‘Blowing in the Wind.’ (Granted I left before the encore to find urinary relief at the Flat Iron where I also found relief from life within the warm embrace of a few pints of Guinness.)
Maybe the river messes with the acoustics. Or maybe I was too involved with listening to the random conversation floating around me (the best was a far too enthusiastic response to the news that the Moody Blues would be playing Nautica soon). No matter, I still think this is a great way to pass a summer night. The company is weird and the view is lovely (that red bridge brought back memories of a River Fest that my momma took me to so that I could see my first real rock show. The band I was there to raise a fist to? Local glam almost-heroes: ZAZA!).
I could wait awhile before visiting the Flat Iron again, however. Too many Irish blokes and not enough drunken Irish women. I feared for my Hungarian life