Zydaco This

I went to an outdoor freebie Zydaco concert last week with "The Crew". The Crew consists of a bunch of wayward, tawdry comics that have nothing better to do on a Wednesday night than coordinate with military presicion the when and wheres of said concert. And buy Quiznos to bring to the park. And leave their cell phone at their mother's house before the concert so we have to go back a get it because the woman was going to call about the dining room table.

The ride to the park was worth money. Laura drove, Kara navigated, and I sat in the back with Quimby, the world's largest chocolate lab. They have a harness on it, kind of like a pony. I suspect he eats the homeless when Laura isn't looking. All those newspaper blankets add a lot of fiber to the diet, making the dog ever larger. Kara had a map but frankly it was a shitty map, and they did a lot of looping and cursing and saying, "I don't know Laura, there are no streets on this map." So much for the military precision. We never would have made it in the Corps.

When we found the park, Laura wanted to get a good spot and drove around to the back end of the park to get us "closer". It all made perfect sense. We got out and trundled our way across the street: Laura the Pregnant, Kara the Tiny, Me the Perpetually Asserting the Fact that I Have Red Hair, and Quimby, Slayer of the Homeless. We had to pass a fountain to get to the music gazebo. The fountain was full of plump children whose parents were too cheap to pay the $3 to get into the pool only yards away. Unsanitary? Yes. But dodging entrance fees is one of summer's little treats.

The band was playing when we got to the green, and I was fully prepared to walk away from the gazebo if a washboard was not involved in the music making; thank God there was. Whom do you suppose figured out a wash board could be turned into a musical instrument? A lackadaisical housewife? A cranky laundress? A bored hillbilly? Jimmy Jack Bobby Joe Lee, you're brilliant. We met up with the other half of the crew here: Maria the Latina, and Kellie the Gesticulator. We sat amongst the throngs of young families and their cotton-candy haired toddlers, drinking beers and talking about good times and paper hats.

When the concert was over we headed back towards the car, content and full of beer and happy Zydeco thoughts; Kara singing some song about crawfish pie. I said, "Crawfish pie? Do they leave the heads on?"
"No, it's like a pot pie," she responded.
"Yeah but don't some people suck the heads?" I asked.
"I don't suck the heads, Mike sucks the heads." she said.

I still have no idea who Mike is.