Saturday, o Saturday, why do you make me cry?
I was warned like three days in advance that my brother was throwing a birthday party for my sister-in-law. And Brother scheduled it, knowing full well that Summerfest was in full swing. It was either an asshole move or a test of my familial commitment. What could I do?
O yeah, we packed up Young Zombie and the Orange Lucifer and hit the fucking road, oh yes we did. And S-I-L’s mom was packing the Serious Tequila Margaritas, so it was working out just fine, yes it was. I delivered a sweet Summerfest t-shirt and rubberized Summerfest shot glass, and O! my, did we not have a wonderful time?
And we drove back, early or so, because dammit local Ska band the Invaders were playing, and they kick fucking ass.
As always, they were skanking up a fucking storm, and the report is that the fiddle lady had a baby just a few days prior, so bonus points for proper prioritization, you know?
Unlike Bouffant, the aging rude boys and hipsters just made me happy.
We had a lovely time, and went home. It was a Summerfest Saturday that worked, family, ska, alcohol…..