It was a grand last stand. The Blues Bouquet went out with style, Monica danced, Bill rode, B! sang, Barney smacked, Kitty poured her heart out, Big Ass was, Ken didnï¿½t tell a joke and Dan ï¿½Tapped us outï¿½ What a party we had. After 11 years of trying to please the masses, Blues staff old and new decided to please ourselves. One last night of employee prices! Poor Sirah, she and her Blue Tailed Twisters were often bumped from center stage as the antics of the loyal customers and staff swirled about the historic bar. Smiles and tears mixed with gin and tonics to create a witches (even Linda was present!) brew. Soon to be unemployed Kitty, Kathy and Melanie had the unfortunate duty of serving those gin and tonics till the end.
It was a Monica, Monica, Monica night. Hoochie Mama Tway led her merry band of revelers around the bar. A hug here, a bite their, girls were kissed and even a boy or two. At the end she danced for dollars on the bar, then Big Ass Mike carried her high on his shoulders to the dance floor.
The Hoochie Men were there too. Mike Trail, Ken, and Barney ripped through a powerful set of the music we will miss the most and yes, even David danced. Barney was smacking the skins in perfect form, sweat dripping from his brow. Ken boogie woogied and Mikeï¿½s golden guitar was Blue one more time. Former waitress and current star Lori B! stepped to the stage and sang till we cried.
The mere customers were tiring out, so we ï¿½speachifiedï¿½ with a little Ken and Dave. Jo, Barney and Ken graciously thanked everyone and David thanked the bosses and the amateurs slowly drifted away. Being trained professionals the staff had plenty of party left.
The story of Rizzoï¿½s last ride is a legend(letï¿½s just say Bill Rizzo doesnï¿½t drink anymore!) in the Blues Bouquet. So the sound of Harley powered pipes rolling in the wide swinging front doors made the regulars nervy. As Bill rolled his classic hog past the bar stools, his smile was reflected in the century old Brunswick bar. As he made way to the dance floor more and more girls found their way onto his bike. It was a dog, no Hawg pile at the end.
Last call? What last call? As the clock rolled toward daylight Dan played taps one more time. The haunting call echoed off blues posters and odd stuffed animals. ï¿½Bucketsï¿½ rattled softly behind the bar and together we all cried for the end of our Blues.