Lately, I have taken a breather from pandemic-imposed isolation and writing a novel by enjoying the nightlife in Prescott, a playground for Phoenix residents. I feel safer now because I have received two injections. Pre-COVID19 the music scene in Prescott was as vibrant as other touristy mountain towns such as Durango, Colo., and Nevada City, Calif. It appears to be coming back as clubs are booking local and out-of-town bands.
On Friday night, one denizen of the downtown subculture, Andrea, observed the bar scene is returning to “normal.” I corrected: “the new normal.” Like me, she has had two injections. She is a downtown fixture: a German-born, teeny-bopping grandmother with a strategically placed tattoo of a spider. Andrea loves to have her picture taken – and to make faces while being photographed. I snapped a photo of her similar to the one below several years ago and had it screen-printed on a coffee mug as a Christmas gift.
While Andrea likes the bar scene, she says she does not drink. I recall she boasted years ago about punching in the nose a drunken man who, she said, would not wait his turn for a taxi. Andrea is part of the local color. Joining her are Ted, Bill, and others. Pre-pandemic, Ted stood out on the dance floor at various clubs with his inimitable style. Bill, a Vietnam War veteran and retired social worker, is more low-keyed. He has a bawdy sense of humor and joked recently about undergoing job training to become a “professional gigolo.” Maybe he wasn’t joking.
The scene is not back to normal yet. One main reason: no dancing. Ted and his girlfriend, Suzy, apparently are suffering dance-floor withdrawal symptoms. I went to the Windsock Cocktail Lounge Feb. 26 a few miles from downtown to see the CheekTones, a popular local band (see below).
A masked man danced with himself near a billiards table. He was no Billy Idol.
I had been absent from the scene for more than six years because I moved to other states in search of elusive employment. Now, I’m retired. The CheekTones’ frontman, Don Cheek, recognized me in the small crowd at the Windsock and said, “Welcome back, Ken.” The CheekTones’ website says the band plays “a spirited mix of rock standards and lesser-known covers, with a healthy portion of originals.” The repertoire includes the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Van Morrison, the Steve Miller Band, Jerry Jeff Walker, the Jackson Five, Tom Petty, Sly and the Family Stone, and Wayne Newton. Their cover songs include extended instrumentals.
The CheekTones drew a big, predominantly middle-aged crowd Friday night at the Birdcage on Prescott’s famed Whiskey Row. Before the pandemic, the nightlife drew pleasure-seekers ranging in age from 21 to their 70s (and perhaps younger with fake IDs). Mothers brought daughters who just turned 21. “Buy Baby Doll a drink,” one mother pleaded. I complied.
The scene on St. Patrick’s Day and Friday night was much tamer—and duller—than what I encountered before I moved in August 2014. I remember a bachelorette party where the bride-to-be asked me, “Are you married?” After I said “no,” she said, “Ask my mother for her phone number.” Mom seemed a little out of place. I don’t recall whether she went to the upstairs bar, where her daughter and a bridesmaid raised their tops and danced to Navajo singer-guitarist Sir Harrison, who was not sidetracked by the sideshow. I’ve seen other women bare their breasts, if not their souls. After another bachelorette party, a pretty blonde walked down the street and announced, “I peed in my pants.” She also told me, “I’ll sex you up.” She didn’t and kept walking.
The nightlife occasionally had a dark side. Somebody shot at a black man – a rare sight here and someone I knew casually. I’ve seen patrons get thrown out of bars. I recall one late night when a police officer asked a man with a bloodied lip to show his ID card. Instead, he handed the officer a cigarette. I tried to stay above the fray. However, one night an inebriated husband of a co-worker got physical because he mistakenly thought I dissed his wife. “Calm down,” I said after he grabbed my shirt and pushed me against the wall. The wife apologized. “He’s had a six-pack. I’m taking him home.” He called within a week to apologize for his behavior.
My friend Chris asked me whether I wanted to return to see the CheekTones Saturday night at the Birdcage. However, I declined because I have had enough nightlife for the week. To paraphrase Billy Joel from his song Captain Jack,” I made up my mind to “just stay home and masticate.”
HAHAHAHAHAHA! You're brave Ken!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHA! You're brave Ken!