December 17, 2004
"Never tuck!" Those were the words Tomcat advised me on at the Museum Club in Flagstaff.
Got into Flagstaff at eight last night and met Tomcat and two of his friends at their favorite Thai place on South San Francisco ($68 house account, includes tip). Checked into the Quality Inn on Milton and delivered four boxes of True West magazine for them to put in all the rooms.
Friday morning we all met again at Martann's for breakfast ($38 cash, plus a $50 gift certificate for Thomas for Christmas, don't tell him, it's a surprise).
Ended up at Barnes & Noble and had a $10 gift certificate from the Radinas so I bought $180 worth of books and a John Singer Sargent 2005 calendar (so I saved $10 and it was only $170!). Went back to he room and took a short nap then started reading Chronicles, the new book by Bob Dylan. He writes books just like he writes songs, heavy on the obtuse symbolism and maddeningly sparse on the self-revelatory stuff you would really like to know. Still, it's a fun read as I'm in the mood for some Minnesota maturity (I also read a chapter or two of Garrison Keillor's Home Grown Democract, and of course, he, like Bobby Zimmerman is from Minnesota).
We had dinner reservations at Busters for 7;30. Had a nice filet with mashed potatoes. Kathy had the halibut and Tomas had the salmon. Cheesecake and decaf for dessert ($69 biz account-talked about printing my new book).
From Buster’s we drove out the cold, dark streets (old Route 66) with the black snow covering the curbs and landed at the Museum Club, one of the most famous bars in the Southwest. I had never been in there and have always wanted to go. It's all wooden like a big ol' hunting lodge with big varnished trees holding up the roof inside ($5 per person cover, $15, plus a Coors $2, plus $1 tip). The band was a bunch of kids called Redneck and two of them, the youngest ones, had on cool, maroon yoked shirts, only they wore them untucked. It looked goofy to me, like they just got out of bed. The lead guitarist, on the other hand, had the starched Wrangler-George Strait look and of course he was probably the old man in the group (over 30). So I leaned over to Tommy and I said, “How prevalent is the untucked shirt look? Is it worn by a few or is it a generational dictate?” That’s when Tomas looked at me like the out of touch geezer I am and said, “Never tuck! You never tuck!” The way he said it made me want to pull my pants up under my armpits and start scratching my ass. Damn! I thought to myself. When did this happen? I didn't notice!
On the way home, I quizzed my son about this new fashion law that says you can’t tuck your shirt in and he told me it has been that way since about 1997. Man, I’m glad I’m not too late to catch that wave. Whew!
"Ten years before its time, a fashion is indecent; ten years after, it is hideous; but a century after, it’s romantic."
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