You know, for as boring as I am, I sure have managed to have adventures lately.

Saturday, M and I decided to celebrate the summer and go out and about. We headed first to Downtown to the big outdoor jazz festival. Oh, the people watching! Nobody does outdoor festivals quite like Midwestern towns in the summer - we have such a short time with good weather we have to make of it what we can. The place was packed solid. Kids and dogs and grown-ups with beer and barbecued ribs. Not too many strollers in the large crowd, which I appreciated, but I did see a very large woman with huge tattoos on her bicep flab with a beer in one hand and a stroller in the other, which held a chihuahua in a baseball T-shirt, slightly too large for him. Then there was the guy with long grey hair in a ponytail, missing front teeth, and a short black skirt. Interesting. Not to put too fine a point on it, but for a jazz festival there sure were a lot of white people. Sad and hopeful all at the same time - great that the music is accepted for the amazing stuff that it is, sad that so many kids in the culture it came from don't know it or appreciate it.

So we were sitting there with our hot dogs and roasted corn when M recognized the guy with a crisp white dress shirt and jeans that cost more than my violin bow headed our way. A reporter from the TV station across the street, trolling for quotes. Amazingly enough, he stopped by us and asked us if he could tape us for the late news. M thought I was nuts, but I said yes. He asked us what we thought of the whole thing, and we said something or other about how we were down there for the fun music and the kickoff to summer. Even more amazingly, we didn't end up on the cutting room floor. I'm kind-of impressed my hair looked as OK as it did, the humidity being what it was. Ten seconds worth of our 15 minutes of fame, checked off the list.

We got ice cream soon after that and headed back up the street to the car and the trip a mile or so across the river to our next adventure of the night. Turns out I knew two guys in two bands that were playing gigs about 4 blocks from each other. We thought, what the heck? We didn't have to be at work the next day. We'll go.

The first was for my cousin's band - a little pop, a little rock, a little punk, and lots of fun. The bar was a real trip. Never been there before and so wasn't prepared. This was a real workingman's establishment. First clue? The old guy with no teeth and scraggly, thinning hair who took our cover charge money. Second? 70's supper club decor that likely hadn't been dusted since it was put in. I was a little afraid to sit in the chairs. Third? Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. That said, I liked the place. The bartender was friendly and knowledgeable, the prices were reasonable, and even though we were obviously Not From Around There, everyone was very nice.

C's band was the second of three, so we sat down to listen to the first and wait. The first band was... earnest... *sigh* The instrumentals were OK but the lead singer wasn't quite in the center of the pitch. OK, he was nowhere near the center of the pitch. The intonation was killing me. But his heart was in it, and that's more than a lot of people can say.

As we sat there waiting, the place got more crowded and the table next to us was taken by three guys. They asked if we could have our spare chair and we of course acquiesced, not realizing that one of them would take that as a sign that we actually wanted to talk to him. So we did the standard light bar chatter, what's your name, what do you do, etc. He informed us that he moved mountains for a living, quite a trick in country scraped flat by the glaciers long ago. Turns out he drives a Bobcat. This is my prejudicial snottiness coming through, I know, but really.

Anyway, not being either stupid or naive, M and I are being friendly but not encouraging, but he's apparently too dumb to know the difference. Mr. Suave starts out by asking us if he can hang out with us the rest of the night as he's not getting along too well with his pals at the next table. Again, as we are neither stupid nor naive, we don't bother beating around the bush and just give him a flat-out no. One would think this would be a clue. But not for Mr. Suave. He continues, asking if he can go home with one of us. What, are you nuts? We just told you that you can't hang around with us for the rest of the night and you think that somehow this means one of us might allow you to come home with us instead? For dumb. We tell him no again. Then things really get entertaining. I'm trying hard not to bust out laughing as it is and then he decides to lay it all out there on the line: he asks us for a threesome.

I mean, really. How dumb can you be?

How I managed not to laugh in his face while telling him no for a third time I really do not know. M tried to let him down a tiny bit gently telling him he can always hope - with someone else - but I'm meaner than she is, generally speaking, and just tell him that no, he probably shouldn't even hope for that.

Then, a miracle occurs. A man from across the room gets up and comes to sit at our table.

In a town of this size, you wouldn't think this would happen, but in the It's A Small World After All category, turns out a colleague of mine is buddies with one of the guys in C's band. He saw me from across the room, came over to say hello, and unintentionally chased Mr. Suave off to another table to hit on another group of women. I have never been so happy to see E before in my life. We told him what had happened, and he didn't believe us. Who would? But I owe him big.

The next time we go out, we really have to remember to prepare fake names and cover stories.

Anyway, C's band started warming up so when Mr. Suave was distracted we headed to the other part of the bar to see them. Loud! Even with my earplugs in I had to cover my ears at times. But they were full of energy and fun. I really enjoyed it.

Being the whole thing was on Bar Time they started playing a good hour after I figured they would so we were late getting to Establishment #3 - an Irish bar just down the block. Yet another colleague of mine plays in an Irish band and I was hoping to get to see them as well. M seemed both surprised and pleased to see us. I guess another colleague of ours had shown up earlier in the night but no one since then. I'm glad we went. They were fun, although not as traditional as I thought they'd be, and they played a couple more songs before hanging it up for the night. The power of music being what it is, the place was empty when we got there - the band was taking a break - and as they played people out on the street heard them and the place was full by the time they were done.

So the upshot of it all is we went to one music festival and two bars, saw two bands, got hit on by an idiot, and didn't end up getting home until 2 a.m. I am prouder of us than I can say.

At this rate, who knows what the summer will bring?