The morning of the Monster Mash began with an Ibuprofen 600, clove oil, and benzocaine to relieve a toothache. A root canal on Monday stopped the pain.
Starting at 10:30, the getting ready process was underway. Load up the PA, associated cables, mics, drums, cymbals, and hardware. Make the five minute drive from the Doghouse to the Capitol Bowl. Set up the PA and drums. Back to the Doghouse. Load up guitars and amps. Change into black shoes, socks, pants, and tee. Back to the Capitol Bowl by 12:45.
Becky handed me a wig that had been prepared so carefully. Teased. Slathered with hair glue to hold the hair straight up. Hair-sprayed to even greater stiffness. Then spray-painted with silver hair paint. The concept was inspired by Jason Lee but needed to semi-match my graying -- greyed -- locks. I retreated to the men’s room, pulled the wig on, and put on a “Hawaiian” tuxedo jacket.
We were ready to start the Monster Mash on time except for one minor detail. The Rockabilly Love Cats did not have singer. The Brett Cole was ready. His stand-up bass was out of its case and plugged in. He looked like a taller, less slovenly Jake of the Blue Brothers. Hell Guapo had his guitar ready.
Maybe everybody did not believe in the 1:00 start. But by 1:05, people in costume were finding their way into the Capitol Bowl. Vlad the Surfer. Billy the Kid. The Joker. Ghouls. A zombie. A couple of witches. A sorcerer. Wolfman. At least one vampire. A flapper. A Swedish cow girl. A ninja. Some guy who called himself “7-10 Split.” A princess. Wonder Woman. A 70s hippie type. The ages of people in costume ranged from one or so to over 65 -- yes, 1 to 65!
Among those finding their way in was Ivan. The Rockabilly Love Cats had a singer and started up. Yes, they played rockabilly -- not Eddie Cochran, but the Burnette Brothers. One of my friends leaned over and said, “That’s stuff we listened to in the 50s.” I thought, “Don’t make me feel too old.”
This was a auspicious start. It set the tone for the afternoon. Fun. Non-pretentious. People were laughing, joking, communing, eating, and drinking. They were taking photos and having fun.
The Love Cats finished, and out came the hula hoops. We cannot help but to laugh when we watch people try -- and fail at -- hula hooping. Something tells us that we can do it. Spinning that hoop and wiggling our hips prove we cannot.
High energy surf from the Sneaky Tikis followed. Whenever we saw kids putting their hands over their ears, we offered up ear plugs. The crowd was building. Clearly, the Monster Mash was already a success. The Sneaky Tikis closed their set with a cover of the Pyronauts’ “Sifaka.”
“How about those Sneaky Tikis!” Applause. “How about the Rockabilly Love Cats!” More applause. “Give it up for the Capitol Bowl letting us be here today.” Still more applause. “The Sneaky Tikis will be back later. So eat, drink, and tip.”
“Are you ready for a costume contest?” Cheers.
Starting at 10:30, the getting ready process was underway. Load up the PA, associated cables, mics, drums, cymbals, and hardware. Make the five minute drive from the Doghouse to the Capitol Bowl. Set up the PA and drums. Back to the Doghouse. Load up guitars and amps. Change into black shoes, socks, pants, and tee. Back to the Capitol Bowl by 12:45.
Becky handed me a wig that had been prepared so carefully. Teased. Slathered with hair glue to hold the hair straight up. Hair-sprayed to even greater stiffness. Then spray-painted with silver hair paint. The concept was inspired by Jason Lee but needed to semi-match my graying -- greyed -- locks. I retreated to the men’s room, pulled the wig on, and put on a “Hawaiian” tuxedo jacket.We were ready to start the Monster Mash on time except for one minor detail. The Rockabilly Love Cats did not have singer. The Brett Cole was ready. His stand-up bass was out of its case and plugged in. He looked like a taller, less slovenly Jake of the Blue Brothers. Hell Guapo had his guitar ready.
Maybe everybody did not believe in the 1:00 start. But by 1:05, people in costume were finding their way into the Capitol Bowl. Vlad the Surfer. Billy the Kid. The Joker. Ghouls. A zombie. A couple of witches. A sorcerer. Wolfman. At least one vampire. A flapper. A Swedish cow girl. A ninja. Some guy who called himself “7-10 Split.” A princess. Wonder Woman. A 70s hippie type. The ages of people in costume ranged from one or so to over 65 -- yes, 1 to 65!
Among those finding their way in was Ivan. The Rockabilly Love Cats had a singer and started up. Yes, they played rockabilly -- not Eddie Cochran, but the Burnette Brothers. One of my friends leaned over and said, “That’s stuff we listened to in the 50s.” I thought, “Don’t make me feel too old.”
This was a auspicious start. It set the tone for the afternoon. Fun. Non-pretentious. People were laughing, joking, communing, eating, and drinking. They were taking photos and having fun.
The Love Cats finished, and out came the hula hoops. We cannot help but to laugh when we watch people try -- and fail at -- hula hooping. Something tells us that we can do it. Spinning that hoop and wiggling our hips prove we cannot.
High energy surf from the Sneaky Tikis followed. Whenever we saw kids putting their hands over their ears, we offered up ear plugs. The crowd was building. Clearly, the Monster Mash was already a success. The Sneaky Tikis closed their set with a cover of the Pyronauts’ “Sifaka.”
“How about those Sneaky Tikis!” Applause. “How about the Rockabilly Love Cats!” More applause. “Give it up for the Capitol Bowl letting us be here today.” Still more applause. “The Sneaky Tikis will be back later. So eat, drink, and tip.”
“Are you ready for a costume contest?” Cheers.