...and then a moment

My day at the office was terrible. Stupid meetings, stupid executives, dumb, idiotic demands on my team.

I spent the better part of the day insisting my team needed more time to start the project from scratch and got a raft of shit from a VP about how I wasn't "on the same page." This is some shit he always pulled when someone had even the most minor of caveats.

I got home and found my daughter Anne with a freshly cut mohawk playing video games with her boyfriend. She sprang up off the couch when I came downstairs from the front door and said "What do you think?!"

Time stood still. 

I had a feeling like falling for a moment, and then in another second I was back at that shitty bar in southern Maryland. Stale beer and liquor had saturated the wooden floor, cigarette butts had been ground into a kind of carpet the whole night and the crowd had been sweating in a mosh pit for hours. Doors were at 6, it was now nearly one in the morning.

I had shown up to see my friend Jimmy's band - Laertes, because hey, why not name your band that?- and they had just finished their set. The audience had been starving for some decent punk rock all through the early 90's, and finally in '95 new blood was making their way North to the stages of Baltimore City, but if you wanted a good show it was still a trip out to the county. 

There was one more band, and what the hell, why don't I stay? I thought.

They dimmed the lights on the stage and let the next band set up with flashlights. It was a pain in the ass for sure, but you know, it added a lot of tension. There will always be a kind magic to playing live music, so why not turn it up a little more? BEHOLD! ::white lights:: THIS BAND!! and then power-chords.

One of the band had this massive mowhawk. It must have been a foot off their head, and it had a sheen that would catch the lights even on the darkened stage. It was like some sort of predator had escaped from a government lab and was going to play some mother fucking punk rock mother fucker! My mind wandered on the humor of the idea when Jimmy walked up and high fived me.

"Man, did you see that?! Great set, everyone's ON. This crowd is amazing!" he pounded my shoulder and took a swig of beer from a bottle whose label had been worn off from sitting in a cooler behind the bar.

He wasn't kidding. They had packed at least four hundred people into a 350 capacity club. At that point, people practically had to mosh; you could have played Franki Valley and The Teenagers, people would slam dance just so they could move.

The club owner, an aging hippy with broken-glass voice, came over the sound system and this odd broken tone hushed everyone.

"Our last act of the night, please, everyone, welcome, Boudica!" LIGHTS! MOHAWK! GIRL! POWERCHORDS!

The Mohawk Girl growled out a lean, mean little two minute song that ended with her shouting "I WANT YOU AND I WANT REVENGE!" over and over mixed with a heady guitar riff that sounded like it was eat your face and steal your girlfriend.

Her name was Leanne, and I asked her if wanted to get breakfast after the show.

Then, in the living room, I guess I had been staring, because Anne's boyfriend was staring at me. 

I wrapped my arms around my daughter and I told her "I love it. Your mother would be so proud." 

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