We made it to Gilley's Dallas on Saturday night to see Trent Willmon. He did a great concert and I'm glad I was able to enjoy it (partially) sober.
But let's start at the beginning. The club is in a great location just on the other side of I-35 from downtown Dallas. It was literally right around the curve from our hotel (Hyatt Regency - great stay!). Don't let the hookers and barred-window liquor stores put you off. This location is good because it is in a semi-industrial area so you're not trying to work your way through people traffic or fight the crowds to other clubs. The closest other club is about 2 blocks away in another warehouse. Very cool.
So we parked out back in a huge parking lot with no clue as to where the front door is. There is no front door - the front door is in the back. We should have gotten a good idea of the crowd when we walked past the old guy snoozing in the mini-van parked closed to Trent's bus. Hmmm.
Since Big Daddy seemed to be outweighed by the women walking in ahead of us, the club shoulda been called "Buffalo Stampede." His words, not mine.
When we walked in the dj was playing "Get Down Tonight." Okay. I vaguely remember the 70s when I was 4. Was that a good song back then? Cause it ain't a good song now.
Anyhoo, I'm just gonna tell it like it was. The talent* was piss poor. Not even mediocre. BUT that always makes for good fun for ME! We parked ourselves in front of a bar and about 20 feet from the stage/dancefloor. Perfect. We had a good view of Trent and at the same time we could watch the "All Humiliation Network" on the dance floor.
I would like to take this opportunity to extend my sympathy to Trent - I want him to know that he should in NO WAY view his Dallas Gilley's crowd (myself excluded) as any type of indicator as to the attractiveness of his fans. There was Amazon Chick with the wife beater tank top and big fake boobs (apparently to offset the big ass she was carrying around behind her). There was Fake Bake Doris (she had to be at least 50). There was No Groove Gonzo (big honkin nose and no sense of rhythm - so sad). And the fourth member of this lovely quartet was Cowboy Rosa (big hat, big hair, big boobs). And let's not forget the motley crew of badly dressed, badly accessorized, and just plain badly females that were in the place. Ooh. I almost forgot BB (Big Blondie) who never lacked for dancing partners - all of whom were half her size. Literally. Half as tall as her and half as wide. Them little fellas like 'em BIG.
It all got off to a fun start when Gonzo was dancing (and that term is used very loosely herein) and then decided to scootchy across the floor to her compadres for a little sippy sip. Make that slippy slip. Busted her ass right there in front of us. We knew right then it was going to make for a very entertaining evening. Trent didn't stand a chance of keeping our attention. I wish I had kept count of the number of times one of these lovely ladies sat unexpectedly on the dancefloor but there was just no way to keep track of everything. I'm only human for cryin out loud. I have the right to laugh so hard I can't see anything.
I feel very strongly that I need to share with everyone (who didn't have the good fortune to see it for themselves) the actual dancing styles we observed. The most popular of course being the "I'm so good everybody will think I'm a titty dancer just without a pole." Oh for the love of Mike! Almost all of these ladies (large or ugly - it didn't matter) seemed to think that they could dance like Demi Moore in "Striptease." It was like a trainwreck - I couldn't not watch.
This blog is getting entirely too long. So I'm going to try to wrap it up. Big Daddy made a new best friend. Some guy decided he wanted to buddy up. First he was a horse breaker, then he was a tequila shot record holder, then he was a sargeant with the Dallas Police Department. Poor Big Daddy - if there's an idiot in a village, they always find him. He's like a retard magnet. Again, myself excluded.
After the concert, we bough Trent's cookbook (with some killer recipes) and I had my cd case for him to autograph. Seeing as how I was too inebriated to meet and greet with Trent the last time I saw him, I was determined to meet him and get my dadgum picture with him this time. There was some chick with little red horns on her head that kept taking people's cameras from them (Trent's self-appointed official photographer?) and she was trying to put those horns on everybody's head that got their picture taken with Trent. Needless to say when she attempted to put them on me, I almost bitch slapped her back. "Get those things away from me." Big Daddy said a curse word under his breath and Trent looked at her like she was some kind of loser (maybe because she IS). I was fixin to go western on her if she didn't back the **** off. She got the idea when I took my camera away from her and handed it to Big Daddy's new best retarded friend to take the picture.
Got my picture, reminded Trent not to ride horses into bars without rubber shoes, got my picture with the drummer (TOTALLY reminds me of Animal from FraggleRock when he plays), and we headed out.
BUT NOT before Amazon Chick and Cowboy Rosa tried to cop a feel off Big Daddy. He got more boob action right then than in the past year. Just kidding. But they totally molested him. I just smiled.
The ending kicker to the evening was when we were walking out. Amazon Chick, Gonzo, Doris, and Cowboy Rosa were all sitting in the back of the mini van near Trent's tour bus. How sad. Because you know what their intentions were. I was scared. For Trent. Poor fella.
I hope he made it on the bus in one piece and was able to lock the door fast enough.
YEE HAW! Next roadtrip: Kevin Fowler in Helotes!