Dumpster Juice Nightcap...What?

Never in one day have I witnessed a more blatant example of polarized cultures. My roommate and I were watching some terrible show about millionaire dating match-ups when we remembered that the Rock the Garden thing was happening. Personally, I thought the line up was beyond horrible, stereotypical, and all around blaaaaaaahhnd, but we hopped on our bikes around 6ish and headed down there anyway. We sat on our bikes for at least three hours talking to this hilarious man with an English accent named Miguel. I couldn't tell if he was calling everyone "wankers" to humor us or if he uses that when talking to his mother on the phone back in Essex. The view was majestic, especially when it looked like the apocalypse was happening to the north, the music was bouncing off of the Walker and delayed before we heard it, so, you know, that was cool. So without further adieu- whatever the hell that means...the highlights.

-PINE CONE RACES!!! While we were standing on the corner behind the Walker and above the parking garage, a group of four or five ran into the street on the hill and squatted down like they were waiting for a race gun to fire...instead, someone yelled "GO!" and they stood up, each letting their respective pine cones roll down the hill; that is until the Escalade came around the bend and took out two of them. I don't believe anyone won.
-Around the middle of the New Pornographers set, people started SNEAKING OUT of the show.
-James, a friendly stranger, rode up on his modified bicycle and spent half an hour trying to convince us to come with him to the Death Metal Solstice house party. I was sold, but couldn't convince my roommate to come. You see, he likes the New Pornographers. Enough said.
-A douche bag who looked jut like Kiefer Sutherland kind of stumbled into the semi circle we were standing in and proceeded to struggle with the removal of his wrist band. Once he ripped it off, he just threw it on the ground. The very jovial Miguel suddenly yells at this guy, "Hey FUCKFACE!!! Who's going to pick that up!!??!?! FUCKING LITTERER!!!" I love accents.

After leaving the Walker, we were trying to think of places to get a drink on the way home. We decided we'd cruise past the Uptown to see what the cover would be and who was playing. As it turns out, Minneapolis metal legends Dumpster Juice were headlining. A far cry from the show were were previously laughing at. Since I've only lived here for a couple of years, they were one of the many bands that I'd heard of, but never actually heard. Now kids, quite honestly this might have been one of the best, BEST shows I have seen since I moved here. I happen to have an inexplicably large soft spot for good metal, while my roommate would rather watch his family die than mingle with farmers dressed in Slayer shirts...like several of the people there. We got some cheap beers, went outside to smoke, and Roommate asked the largest, angriest, drunkest man there if he could take a chair from his empty table. I thought Roommate was done. They guy looks at him like he wanted to eat him, tells him to take the fucking ashtray too, and the fucking table, and whatever else he fucking wanted. I thought I was going to end up biking home alone. Fortunately, Three-hundred Pounds of Pain didn't talk to us again and we were able to regroup and figure out (whaaaa, Roxy Music on the Current right now?...hmmm) who to avoid making eye contact with, which was pretty much everyone but the waitress. I don't understand why tall, bald metalheads think its okay to just rub their hands all over my head when I walk by them, but they do. "I like your hair, what's your name? Come talk to me...I'm in _____ band and you should give me your number so I can tell you when we're playing..." etc. etc.. One guy bummed me a cigar when I ran out of rolling papers. Bizarre.
Anyway, the highlight of this show was definitely the music, that and the huge front guy named Rolland who had "black hole" written on his gut with a black diamond shape filled in around his belly button. He even had a light fastened to his crotch that he would turn on from time to time and air hump the audience- (think Chris Farley in the SNL Chippendale sketch with Patrick Swazy...) all in good fun. I f'n loved their personalities, the stage banter was humorous and they weren't trying to do anything but rock. It seemed so, so natural. I also met the bass player form Erik and the Savages. Doug, you definitely seem like an awesome dude. How many times do you see the same person at show after show before you finally say something to them? He is one of those people. I am horrible at breaking down invisible walls. I'm not holier than thou, I'm just paralyzed in a social shell. It's easier to friend them on MySpace, of course, this makes it even more awkward when you see them at every show because you both know that you're friends in a made up world.
I'll post next time I see Dumpster Juice playing. No regrets.
I'm going to find an air show to go to. I feel like watching fighter planes do some fancy stuff, and there are F-somethings flying over my house. I hope its the Blue Angels...theys some studly flying machines mmmmmhmmmm.