Saturday Night In The Bayou

Uncle Bubba had his fill of a long work week and a nice sized bundle of greenbacks in his pocket to show for it. He had made up his mind early in the day that he was going to twist off from the usual routine and treat himself to a little fun. After all, all work makes Bubbie a dull boy and runs completely counter to his general life's philosophy. He's told me many times that he's "tryin' to live 3 lifetimes in one."

He returned to his hotel room in Mobile for a shower and change of clothes before jumping back in his pickup and slipping under the Bankhead tunnel under the river. He rolled up to Felix's Fish House for a nice dinner of cornmeal fried oysters, crab soup, and corn & jalapeno fritters. The place was packed but Bubbie found a table in the bar. I tight little 3 piece band was playing low in the corner; he heard some Creedence, Little Feat, and Dilbert McClinton to name a few artists that the band covered. An hour, and too full, later it was time to move on. With no desire to head back to the lonely hotel he drove to some neon lights dimly shining down the road. There, jacked up on pylons, sat the Drifters bar. He could hear music playing from inside as he stepped out of his truck and it grew louder as he climbed the stairs in anticipation; this could be the worst places he's ever been or a diamond in the rough...

Stepping into the smokey bar he was surprised at how few patrons seemed to be present, but it was still early, he thought. The band was playing and they sounded good, though he can't recall their name. They were a four piece group that played much louder than the last band he had heard just minutes ago. But it was a fairly big joint and the sound carried well so it didn't seem overpowering. Bubbie saddled up to the bar and ordered a beer while politely smiling to others eying him. I should say that Uncle Bubba has an essence that tends to draw attention, whether wanted or unwanted. I can't say what it is, but something about him makes one take notice, though Bubbie is oblivious to it. Its somewhat comical but he always thinks he blends right in with any crowd. So grins and nods are passed around the room as he settles in. Invariably some local yokel will start chatting with him about where he's from or politics; neither topic is one that Bubbie cares to cultivate. But he'll politely defer. He notices an outer area through the back of the room and maneuvers that way. As he steps out onto the deck he's taken aback at the crowd hanging out and just having one helluva party and the view of the moon shining off of the water below. Before you know it it's drinks all around and singing along with the band; the parties on brother! Bubbie's view is a little hazy but he remembers singing Sweet Home Alabama (several times), shaking a lot of hands, and shooting back through the tunnel under the river. Good times in the bayou on a Saturday night!