Listen up, you Muggs!
Ditto with senior citizens.
Don’t I know it.
My wife, Kim, and I had made plans this past Saturday night. It was my belated birthday trek.
We were going to PJ’s Lager House on Michigan Avenue in Detroit to see the Muggs, one of my favorite local bands.
Things started out well enough. We stopped at Nemo’s to grab a burger. We were going to watch the last couple of innings of the Tigers’ game and then walk the block or so to the Lager House to hear the Muggs.
Things went as planned, until the Tigers unexpectedly came back from a 6-0 deficit to tie it up in the bottom of the ninth and later beat the White Sox, 7-6, in the 12th inning.
We left the euphoric crowd at Nemo’s and got to the Lager House, only to find that the Ill Itches – the second group on the bill -- hadn’t begun to play yet. The group had wisely decided to wait until the Tigers’ game had ended before starting its set.
Nothing against the Ill Itches, but Kim and I were getting weary. We listened for a while, but it was nearing midnight and still no Muggs. We sat near the bar. We yawned. We yawned again.
It finally dawned on us. Our demographics didn’t mesh. Kim and I are on brink of Social Security. A lot of the other patrons at the Lager House looked like they still could be collecting allowances. We got in the car and went home.
The Tigers were great. Undoubtedly, the Muggs were, too. I am sure the crowd at PJ’s loved them. By then, Kim and in were in our pjs at home.
Does rock and roll offer an early bird special?