draggin' the days

good morning, happy thursday, blah blah blah.

last night i went to an irish pub to listen to some fiddlers make the strings and lassies dance - fabulous. tucked in with the leek pie and cider were laughs and interesting conversations with a coworker, fred. and then it happened. out of nowhere she (yes, fred's a she) asked me if i know finney.
finney?
yea, finney. mahones...?

weird.

i'd felt like this once before. high on ecstasy in tokyo, dancing in a corner of a wee speakeasy a bartender walked by and said "you're not at luvafair." luvafair happens to be the name of the club i regularly thrashed about in, back in vancouver. quick head shake: where am i again!? time/space warp man, whoa. heh.

that's how that question felt.

finney sings for this band that i guess still exists - every now and then. i don't actually know finney, but i have met him several times. in three different provinces.

i first saw the mahones play at the republik in calgary. the friend i was driving with from thunder bay (NOT where i'm "from" incidentally, merely somewhere i was subjected to for a few adolescent years) to vancouver was a celtic punk afficianado. he knew - no, he loved the mahones so we made sure our drive ushered us into calgary the night before they played. that's the first time i met the mahones, lingering casually behind as he gushed all over them. (ick)

a few days later, we pulled into vancouver, again one day ahead of the mahones. whom we of course went to see. again, he did the post-show shimmy, oozing compliments all over them. again, i stood a few paces back, the reluctant but patient friend.

three days later, after they'd been and returned from whistler... you guessed it. we went to see them again. this time they kidnapped us, dragging us back to someone's place after the show for drinks, stories, laughs, improvised music: good times.

a little over a year later, i found myself back in thunder bay. i don't wanna talk about it. what is pertinent is that one night, i steered myself to crocks and rolls for some good old fashioned celtic punk. that's right kids, the mahones were in town. to my utter shock and stupefaction (is that a word?), he remembered not only me and my unique little name, but also my friend (still back in vancouver, lucky bastard) and his humdrum little personality. how sweet.

i thought this would be the last time. i was wrong!

about 3 years later, back in vancouver, imagine my delighted surprise when i saw a poster: the mahones were playing at richard's on richards (or dick's on dicks if that titillates you)! how could i not go!? by then i was a woman steeped in my own scandalous sexuality. tight little body with appropriately devastating curves squeezed into pvc pants. the poor lolling-tongued boys couldn't even begin to recognize me. nothing a little nudge in the right direction didn't cure (to my impressed amusement) and they even remembered my geek friend from those days of yonder. considering how many people these fellas meet over inumerable drinks, i still feel a little awed. really, that's fucking impressive! we shared a few drinks and talked a bit of shit up the street at the railway club. that was about 5 years ago (?), and that's the last time i saw them.

or am i wrong again?
i have to say, the thought of seeing them in yet another city does amuse me...