And then it happened.
Bumblebee is doing a thread called A Night at the Rainbow Cabaret, which needs to be prerequisite reading – and its images absorbed - as background for this bit. I have been there with him Thursday and Friday evenings (I write this on Saturday morning). I’m told we’re going again tonight too.
I don’t regret one moment of what has taken place thus far in this short hollie day trip to PP. The whole Lily Lisa triumvirate explorative adventure has been so well worth it. Lily the physically big but politely diminutive one. Lisa the big lummox, well meaning but galumphing about like a jabberwock in a crystal collection. She seems to attract and dispense filth with a frenzied zeal, accumulating black shit beneath her fingernails, creating snowmounds of wrinkled stained tissues and paper towelettes, knocking over drinks, standing on your foot, creating a Hansel & Gretel trail of grubby footprints across the hotel room tiles, leaving used towels and half used soap all over the room.
O sorry sorry. It’s OK Lisa, it’s OK.
All good fun from a pretty decent pair of kids (Lily aged 22, Lisa 21).
However, said adventure has left me exhausted and showing my age. In Bumblebee’s Boot Camp, where we do our daily forced marches of ferocious speed walking up and down the uneven footpaths of city blocks, he turns his head wondering where I am, why aren’t I keeping up. Last evening at the Rainbow Cab while amateur hour was raging in front of us I almost fell asleep.
I hasten to add by way of digression: Bumblebee has been a fantastic companion in all of this. He has not only been tutoring a poor quality pupil in the nuances of photography, but he has been a fount of info about the city as well, the bars and the hangouts, the LBs, most of whom he knows by name.
But as I said in opening: then it happened.
My attention was grabbed and any danger of falling asleep dispelled by one of the performers. I found this particular LB at that distance and in full theatrical garb, vastly attractive. If you go to Bb’s thread, look at his most recent post (#13) and scroll down the pix, counting as you go, then pause over images 8 and 9. (For example)
As the show ends and many of the stars bolt, four or five hang about outside talking laughing deciding as if a happening is to follow. Bb and I hotfoot it out to join them. Where you go now, I ask in my best PP Barglish. Bb tells me he knows where they go to eat after the shows.
As if imitating Major --- de Coverley, one LB answers me: go eat.
I go with you, we go with you, I assert.
Where, one asks in reply.
I follow you, I keep saying, as my image number 8 & 9 joins our group. I find an excuse to ease my way through the throng to confront her, then proceed to tell her she is beautiful. Thank you. Thank you.
All the while street workers bellow in our ears tuk tuk sir, motorbike sir, a RC staffer thanks us for coming, two of the LBs mount motorbikes and take off. What your name, I ask LB number 8 & 9. Lulu.
Where you go Lulu?
I go with you. O shit, it happened alright. Skip to my Lulu. Can this be for real?
Her companion from the stage review stands beside her and Bb takes proper pix while I snap off a couple of beginner ones. Lulu and friend. Then Lulu alone.