We Be Jammin'

The Herald News has had nothing of note for the last couple days, but I noticed on the website that they have old police blotter items archived, so in the coming days expect some classic entries from the files of the Joliet PD. Yes, Honey Buns will be included.
As promised, I will share with you tales of Saturday night's adventure at Dreams in Lockport. As we drove down Illinois Street past Dreams, we noticed a lot of motorcycles out front, adding suspicion to the vague recollection that someone told me that Dreams was a biker bar. As we parked, we saw some clean cut guys around our age walking in, so we figured we might have been wrong. We arrived at Dreams, paid the $7 cover (a little much for a suburban bar, especially after you read the rest of this story) and ventured in. Yes, we did see many biker type fellows, including a Santa Claus lookalike at the bar (I figured sitting on his lap and telling him I wanted a crotch rocket for Christmas wasn't the best idea). However, the place was mostly populated by hippie types, including a girl walking around barefoot (I was afraid she'd slip and fall in Miller Light or droppings from someone's beard). As Melanie and I were wearing Nordstrom and Charlotte Russe's interpretations of hippie tops, we fit in moderately well, though I think my Coach purse might have blown my cover. Side note-Patchwork Jeans Alert: during a mall trip earlier that afternoon, Melanie and I spotted two girls wearing matching versions of the Dreaded Denim at Charlotte Russe. We ventured around a bit before our other friends arrived, eventually finding out that tonight's band was Mr. Blotto. A kind gentleman informed us that Mr. Blotto did Grateful Dead and Allman Brothers covers, but also performed original material. Near the back of the bar we found a makeshift head shop put up for the night, featuring items such as mini Grateful Dead bears, hemp bags, and my personal favorite, a hat with a secret stash pocket. Apparently, you can put your weed in there. After checking out the scene a bit more, Nancy and Megan arrived and after getting drinks, we decided to figure out a spot to stay in for awhile. It's always a little weird going to a new bar for the first time because you don't really know the protocol: you don't really want to sit at the bar with the regulars, but you don't want to stand in the middle of nowhere like an idiot. The band was beginning, so we chose to stand near the head shop, a distance from the side of the stage. After putting a couple friends' names on Mr. Blotto's mailing list, we stood for a bit and listened to the band. They weren't bad, just not my kind of music. However, Mr. Blotto's hardcore fans would beg to differ. The Mr. Blotto fan profile: late 20's-40's, long hair, male or female, glazed eyes, and, the most important factor-wearing a Mr. Blotto t-shirt to a Mr. Blotto concert. Yes, a typical Mr. Blotto fan is That Guy. The Blottophiles in front of us were women who swayed somewhat jerkily from side to side, standing near a table that held a small candle in a shell. Was this a sacrifice to the Blotto gods? No one knows. Nancy thought she saw a face in the shell, and I did my best to check out the situation, but we think it was just a shadow. We went to the bar for another drink, and I ordered a Woodchuck, which was on draft there. A large biker type man with lots of facial hair (if you want to know what Muppet I think he looked like, click here) asked me what I was drinking, I told him it was a Woodchuck. He responded, "How much chuck would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" I replied that I didn't know, and he said, "I bet you didn't think I'd know that!" I moved back to my group and let the man be. We chatted for a few minutes, then a hyper looking skinny guy walked up to us. I don't remember his exact words, but he said something like, "Why aren't you girls jamming out there? Do you want to come jam?" We told him that we had "jammed" previously, and he walked away, only to return a few minutes later to ask the same question. Realizing we were girls that "dance" more than we "jam," we decided to leave Dreams and pursue other arenas. Melanie was tired and headed home, but Megan, Nancy and I headed for Naperville to meet up with a guy we knew from high school. The soundtrack for the ride to Naperville was New Kids on the Block's Greatest Hits, and time flew by while listening to the many ways in which NKOTB vocally woo their "girls." We hung out for a while in Naperville, and though we went to the bar where the Diva of Denim had been spotted before, she was not in attendance on Saturday night. The only interesting item from Naperville occurred as we were walking toward the bars. A group of guys passed us, and one of them attempted to woo us by saying, "Hey ladies," followed by "Shit!" I'm not old fashioned, but is "Shit!" the best way to pick up girls? How do you respond? "Caca," perhaps? Maybe "Please don't go girl," or "You got the right stuff" would work better. I sure went for it in fifth grade.