Warning: This is a LONG post. Get comfortable. Bring a sack lunch. Stay a while.
Good news, readers: my weekend kicked an absolutely unreasonable amount of ass. February 6 and 7 reminded me why we stop working once every five days and take a little break.
Plans for this weekend began months ago, when I realized that Justin Townes Earle was going to play the Mucky Duck in Houston on Friday night. I’ve seen JTE twice before, and as you may recall, I’m a bit of a fan. I firmly believe that this guy is one of the best singer-songwriters working today, and I can’t understand why everyone isn’t rushing out to buy every song he’s ever recorded. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, grab a couple of songs from the download box on the right side of your screen right now.
Midweek, when The Usual Suspects decided to make a weekend of this trip, I got on hotwire.com to look for a hotel room in Houston. If you’ve ever used hotwire, you know that the prices are GREAT, but you can’t see which hotel you’ve actually selected until after you pay. You get to choose the city, obviously (or a part of the city, in the case of a major metropolis like Houston), but where you actually stay is kind of a crapshoot. I selected the section of Houston surrounding the Mucky Duck, which includes areas as far as ten to twelve miles and several nasty freeway interchanges away. After I selected a price and paid, the website kindly informed me that we would be staying at a hotel .42 miles from the Mucky Duck. That’s right: our hotel was less than half a mile from the concert. I took this to be a very positive sign.
The problem with going to see JTE at the Mucky Duck is that the Mucky Duck doesn’t sell tickets online. They also don’t sell tickets via credit card. Since I don’t live in Houston, I had no way to buy tickets in advance. When I called the Mucky Duck on Friday afternoon, the employee who answered the phone informed me that the show was sold out. This could have been a damper on our trip, but Big T, WrongFoot, and I already had a hotel room and plans to see the show, so we set off with every intention of buying tickets off some shady-looking sidewalk scalper. Even if we didn’t get in, the worst case scenario was that we’d spend a night out on the town in Houston. It was a risk we were willing to take.
We arrived at the Mucky Duck early. Very early. We left town immediately after school on Friday, and cruised through traffic as if my truck were parting the Red Sea. I’ve never reached Houston so effortlessly. We even stopped at Waller County Line Barbecue and picked up a link of hot smoked boudin to munch on while we drove. Upon arriving at the Mucky Duck a couple hours early, I realized that there would be no scalpers. The place is tiny. When we stepped inside, a guy with a guest list asked for our names. Since we weren’t on the list, the lady who seemed to be in charge encouraged us to step out onto the patio and have a drink. She said she’d let us know if there was standing room available once the show started. We were slightly bummed, but tried to remain hopeful. Big T exited to the patio while WrongFoot and I headed for the restroom.
By the time we returned from the men’s room, Big T was standing between the guest list guy and the in-charge lady, handing over some cash. Apparently, just a moment after Big T stepped outside, the in-charge lady stepped out onto the patio and asked, “Where are my three guys?” It turned out that some of the people inside had reserved two tables, one for themselves and one for friends who were flying in from Nashville for the show. The friends’ plane was delayed, and they weren’t going to make it for JTE. After informing us that having a table meant ordering dinner and a “fancy bottle of wine,” the very friendly lady showed us to our seats. We not only got in, friends; we got a TABLE with a SPECTACULAR view of the stage. You never saw three guys with bigger grins on their faces.
Upon being presented with menus, I realized that the Mucky Duck takes the culinary aspects of their business very seriously. Being health-conscious eaters, we decided that three appetizers and three entrees would be an appropriate amount of food to order. Big T ordered baked brie, which was served with sliced apples, a raspberry sauce on top, and french bread upon which to arrange the whole menagerie. WrongFoot opted for a steak and mushroom cheese fondue, served with toasted pita bread for dipping. I settled upon Scotch eggs. I’d never heard of them before, much less eaten them, but I couldn’t resist the description. Scotch eggs are hard-boiled eggs, wrapped in a layer of sausage, then breaded and deep fried. They’re about the size of a baseball, and they’re served cut in half, accompanied by brown curry mustard for dipping. I can’t begin to describe how wonderful this dish tasted. It was like taking a big bite of happiness.
Scotch Eggs: We had partially eaten a couple of them before we realized they were a gift from God and deserved a picture...
After conquering the appetizers and a few glasses of beer, we enjoyed our entrees. BigT chose shepherd’s pie, while WrongFoot opted for fish tacos and I had a steak and mushroom pie. All three were good, but the appetizers seriously outshined the main dishes. On the bright side, we had plenty of curry brown mustard left, and we ate it on EVERYTHING. I kind of wanted to order about a quart to go.
Just as we were finishing dinner, the opening act took the stage. I never heard of Dawn Landes before, but I’m always hopeful about opening bands. You may recall that I first heard JTE when he opened for Old Crow Medicine Show. Dawn Landes is a gorgeous young woman who writes and plays a variety of songs I can best describe as Americana. Accompanied by a bass player who sometimes switches to electric guitar and a drummer who also plays a hands-free harmonica (beast mode!), Landes performs songs ranging from country to folk to a kind of experimental drum-driven world beat sound. She played a relatively short set, maybe a dozen songs, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I picked up her latest album on vinyl from the merchandise table, and she was kind enough to sign it for me after the show.
Love? I'll bet she say that to all the boys.
After a brief intermission that involved a bottle of muscato d’asti, which is my one of my new wine obsessions, JTE took the stage, flanked by a bearded fiddler and a feisty-looking woman who carried her stand-up bass to the stage over her head. The first time I saw JTE, he was accompanied by one guy who alternated between bass, mandolin, and banjo. The second time, JTE flew solo. I was surprised to see him with two other people on stage. Apparently, he can perform with and kind of sidekicks or none at all.
I don’t know what to say about JTE’s performance except that he’s a genius. For the second time in four posts, I have to say “I’m not resorting to melodrama, here.” Justin Townes Earle is amazing. Very rarely do I see an artist in concert who sounds even better on stage than on CD, but that’s exactly the case with JTE. “Halfway To Jackson” alone was worth the price of admission. During the course of the set, the band treated us to several songs which will be included on an upcoming album (which I’m looking forward to in a big way), and Dawn Landes even joined JTE on stage to perform a duet of Dolly Parton’s “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind.” (Interesting side note: WrongFoot was mighty fond of Dawn Landes. During JTE’s set, knowing that she was about to be called up on stage for the duet, she came out into the audience area and hunkered down near the back to wait. Seeing her there, WrongFoot scooted back in the booth and offered her the seat next to him, which she gladly accepted for the remainder of the song before her duet.)
The Duet, although my cell phone camera doesn't really do it justice...
The merchandise table also had JTE’s newest album available on vinyl, so I grabbed it (along with a pretty badass t-shirt), and he signed it for me after the show. I left the Mucky Duck with two signed LPs, a spiffy new shirt, a fantastic meal in my belly, and an amazing listening experience added to my memories of the musical world. Yet, the night was young.
You can bet that this bad boy is going to end up framed.
The Aforementioned Shirt: front view and inside back, where the tag would usually be. Notice that it's a limited edition, 1 of 200. Ooh. Fancy.
From the Mucky Duck, we ventured to several nearby pubs. I don’t recall the exact order, but we definitely hit Under The Volcano, famous for its frozen screwdrivers and named after a fantastic novel by Malcolm Lowry, which is one of the finest novels of the last 100 years and which WAY more people should have read. I found the combination of the literary name and the very tasty frozen screwdrivers very pleasing, indeed. We also checked out the Kelvin Arms, “Houston’s Only Scottish Pub,” which is located in what used to be a bank. In fact, you can take your drink into the vault, where they have arranged lots of lounge-style furniture and pleasant ambient lighting. Finally, we hit the Marquis Part Deux, a place WrongFoot frequented during his college years. The building used to be a strip joint called the Marquis, and the new owners didn’t feel compelled to change the name too much when they bought it. This bar is a dive. The carpet is probably hosting seventeen strains of deadly or at least severely disgusting bacteria and mold. That said, the drinks are potent and cheap, and the chairs are REALLY comfortable. While we enjoyed a Long Island, some random guy told me that I look like stand-up comedian Jim Gaffigan. I’ve never been told that before, but I can see his point.
See the resemblance?
After a couple of drinks, a cheap pepperoni pizza, and a SERIOUS hand-washing, we departed the Marquis Part Deux for the Extended Stay America hotel, just a few blocks away. Our contained a queen-sized bed as well as a chair and ottoman. Because both Big T and I exceed 6 foot 2 (Big T isn’t just a clever name. Nor is Big Red Poet.), WrongFoot was nominated to sleep on the chair-ottoman combination. I didn’t envy him, but he seemed not to mind, and passed out as soon as he was horizontal.
Saturday was an unexpectedly beautiful day. For the past few weeks, we’ve had nothing but gray skies, drizzle, and general ickyness, but when we awoke on Saturday, we were greeted by sunshine, a light breeze, and a temperature that was perfect for walking around outside in a polo shirt, which was convenient since a polo shirt was exactly what I’d brought to wear. We headed over toward Rice Village, where we had lunch at Mi Luna, a tapas restaurant. If you’ve never had tapas, it’s amazing. Basically, tapas style dining involves ordering several small entrees instead of one big one. Generally, everyone at the table shares a little of every dish. Each little plate costs between 3 and 10 dollars, and the food is amazing. The dishes we ordered included smelt in olive oil, beef skewers, zucchini with gorgonzola, b’stilla (a puff pastry filled with chicken, egg, and pine nuts and topped with cinnamon), spicy shrimp with garlic, and scallops served over a tomato-based sauce. There may have been others, but my memory fails. This was my third trip to Mi Luna, and I have yet to order anything I haven’t enjoyed.
After tapas, we headed for the two-story used bookstore just down the block. We didn’t quite get there, though. We got distracted by a place called The Chocolate Bar, which makes all manner of wonderful home-made sweets. We perused cakes, cookies, chocolates, ice cream, chocolate covered fruit, fudge, and lord knows what else before deciding on our desserts. I had a three-scoop serving of ice cream, which I carried with me to the book store.
If Big T and WrongFoot had let me, I might have stayed at the book store all day. Since we had places to go, though, I tried to move quickly. I checked all the usual suspects (Cormac McCarthy, Jeffrey Lent, Leif Enger, and the like) for first editions, signed copies, etc, but I didn’t find anything very interesting. I was just about to call it quits when I remembered a novel that Pre and I saw at Barnes & Noble on a random late-night bookstore trip a few days before. (Remember the trip to Target, then to a bookstore, then to get a quesadilla? That’s the one. It all comes together.) Daniel Choan’s Await Your Reply has only been on the shelf since August of this year, and it’s still selling for regular price at Barnes & Noble and Hastings. I didn’t really expect to find a used copy, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to check. As it turns out, I found a copy. I then found another copy. They were both first printings of the first edition…and they were both signed. If I hadn’t been so full of tapas and ice cream, I might have jumped for joy. I quickly snatched up both of them and ran down to the cash register before anybody realized I was about to ROB THE PLACE BLIND. Seriously. I can’t believe I scored two signed first editions of what promises to be an amazing novel (Go read the description at the link…) for $12.50 each. The book is still $25 at the bookstore. Score.
I win.
After Rice Village, we headed toward Montrose. On the way, though, we got waylayed on a little section of street that had several interesting-looking antique shops and a couple of cafes. Upon exploring the antique shops, I perused a selection of furniture unlike any I’ve ever seen in my life. These people must go to every estate sale in Houston and buy all the gorgeous old furnishings that come out of those mansions that the deceased leave behind. Left to my own devices, I could easily have spent several thousand dollars on desks, book cases, etc. By far the most tempting piece of furniture I saw was a 1930s globe/bar. I’ve wanted one of these ever since I first saw one, and this antique was in absolutely fantastic condition. The decanters inside are French crystal, and all the wooden parts as well as the globe are original from the 1930. I swear if I wasn’t planning to go to Austria, I would have bought it. What’s $1600 compared to something like this?
Oh, to be rich. *sigh*
After dragging myself away from the globe (which still makes me kind of sad), we stepped into a place called Domy Books, which is seriously the strangest store I’ve ever been inside in my life. Remember, I lived in California for about five years, so that’s SAYING something. I looked around this bookstore for twenty minutes or so, and the only familiar titles I saw were concentrated on one small shelf of American subversives (Kerouac, Palanhiuk, etc) that was stashed in a back corner. Beyond that, the place was filled with the most bizarre array of books, leaflets, tracts, and magazines I have ever seen. Every underground, special-interest, risque, local, self-published, unknown, and generally just very weird kind of book was available for sale, but I couldn’t find a single thing that didn’t frighten or confuse me at least a little. Behind the store was a little courtyard, and it was full of people sitting at tables eating lunch. Oddly, though, there was no place in the courtyard to buy food. I have no idea where this crowd of freaks came from or why they saw fit to eat their lunches behind Domy Books while people in the store wondered what the hell was going on. By the time we left Big T looked like he’d been whacked in the side of the head with a rubber mallet. An hour later, he was still muttering “What the hell?”
After our surreal visit to Domy Books, we crossed the street to Agora, which turns out to be the most amazing coffeehouse/cafe/bar I’ve ever visited in my life. Perhaps it was the fantastic mood of the day overtaking my judgment, but I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed my first visit to any establishment as much as I enjoyed Agora. It’s in an old house near the corner of Kirby and Westheimer, and as soon as I walked in I was ensconsed by the smell of coffee, lots of dark wood and leather furniture, and the low hum of friendly chatter. The bar offered a full coffeehouse selection of caffeinated beverages as well as beers and a great selection of wines. I opted for a glass of port (my other new wine obsession), and we headed for the deck upstairs, which overlooks the foot traffic through the whole neighborhood we had just explored. As we sat on that deck with the sun shining down, a hint of a breeze, and the beginnings of a buzz, all three of us simultaneously realized what a fantastic weekend we’d been experiencing. We drank a toast to good friends and good times. As I looked around the patio, I was pleasantly surprised to see several genuinely beautiful women enjoying their cups of coffee or glasses of wine. It was nice to be surrounded by a crowd of people my own age, rather than the 21-23 year old crowd usually found in our local bars.
By the time we left Houston proper, I had two signed LPs, two signed books, a belly full of amazing food, and a wicked new JTE t-shirt. Things were going well. Luckily, though, the weekend wasn’t over. We still had to stop at Choo Choo Sushi. Big T and WrongFoot found this place a while back when they were in Houston for a conference. Since they know I love sushi, they insisted I had to try it. I didn’t argue. Choo Choo Sushi is named after the method of service the restaurant employs. Basically, when you step inside, you’re seated at a long bar that weaves its way throughout the restaurant. Atop the bar is a moving conveyor belt (not unlike a train…get it?) upon which individual plates of sushi ride around the dining room. When you see one you want, you just grab it. The plates are color coded, and your bill is tabulated by simply counting up the plates in front of you when you’re finished. The cheapest plates were $1.50, and the most expensive were $4.00, which is a hell of a deal for sushi. The three of us sampled many different cuts of sushi, sharing them amongst ourselves as we had at Mi Luna. (Starting to see the pattern? We feed like pack animals.) The most interesting cut I tried was octopus sashimi. Honestly, I grabbed it mostly out of curiosity, but it turned out to be very, very tasty. It has a subtle flavor that’s meatier than I expected and a consistency more similar to pork than fish. I’d definitely get it again.
I've always suspected octopi of being delicious. My theory is now proven.
After our visit to Choo Choo Sushi, we headed back home. Our drive was uneventful, with WrongFoot dozing off and on in the back seat of my truck while Big T and I sang along with my mixed CDs. We had to make decent time, too, because I was scheduled to chaperon the high school’s Sadie Hawkins dance from 10:00 to midnight. I dropped off The Usual Suspects at their respective houses and hurried home to take a quick shower and get dressed for Sadie. (I’m not counting my half-hour at home as “the end of the trip.” I didn’t even sit down. Sadie Hawkins is still part of the road trip.) I checked in to the dance at 9:57 like it had been just another Saturday. The dance proceeded about as expected, with lots of horrifying hip-hop music I’ve never heard before, several administrative admonitions against “grinding,” the occasional slow song, one fistfight, and an epic remix of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
After the dance, a few of my fellow chaperons (Little T, B-Rob, E-Rob, EggRoll, and Safarrah, for those of you keeping score at home) and I headed over to the Texas Hall of Fame for a nightcap. This place is a genuine Texas honky-tonk, but there was no band on Saturday, so the crowd was small. We commandeered a small table and spent an hour or so just laughing and unwinding. Several people commented, “We don’t do this often enough,” referring to just getting together for a beer and some BS. I concur.
Since the Hall is less than a mile from my house, about five minutes passed between my last goodbye of the evening and my assuming a position of horizontal repose. Thank god. I don’t think I could have stayed awake for another moment.
Damn! I just realized that I forgot to mention our visit to Nan’s Games & Comics and our stop at Griff’s Irish Pub. At this point, I can’t recall when we visited each of those places, so I don’t know where to fit them into the above chronology. You’ll just have to trust that I was there and that it was awesome.
This entire trip was literally one of the best weekends of my life. I am reminded of the wonder of discovering new places, the joy of eating and drinking previously unknown foods and beverages, the glory of live music, and the comfort of having amazing buddies to share it with.
I’m sure we’ll attempt another epic voyage soon. You should join us.
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