As is often the case, I've been keeping apalling hours lately, between work and... uh... not work. Monday being a holiday, I headed out to a local pub on Sunday night for a libation. The place was packed, rush hour on the Lexington Avenue subway line packed. The combination of a Monday off and a winter's worth of cabin fever had people heading out in droves.
Around 10 P.M., the band took the stage- a cover band called Amish Outlaws. Yeah, a bunch of guys in traditional Amish attire playing a hodge-podge of late 20th and early 21st century pop music- interesting schtick... or so I thought. I ran into one of the band members in the pissoir, and told him that the gimmick was great. He very politely told me that a bunch of the founding members of the band were actually Amish. Amish teenagers are given an opportunity to experience life outside the Amish community, a period known as Rumspringa. The majority of Amish youths return to the fold after this period of freedom. Luckily, some of them decide to leave the community and form hilariously entertaining bands. Plus, the lead singer of the band is a big, bad baldie... I didn't ask him if he were a bastard, though. Here's a sample of the band playing a song by some local girl who managed to hit the bigtime:
Last call in New York state is 4 AM... I managed to make it to about 3:30 before the mounting accumulation of snow convinced me to get my ass home. I pretty much spent the holiday nursing a hangover and some serious muscle aches- all the while lamenting the fact that, while I can still cut the rug for hours, I always end up paying for my corybantic endeavors the following day.
The best thing about dancing your ass off is that, at the end of the day, you've still got your ass.