"Hey man, gonna see Bob Schneider at The Granada on professional night."
Professional night? What's that?
"Never heard of professional night?"
Nope.
"Ever heard of amatuer night?"
Sure, New Years Eve--amatuer night!
"Right. Bob plays Austin on amateur night every year. He plays Dallas on professional night, the night before amateur night. Full band, always a tight group. Ollie's got the moves. Slow motion and exact. Bass player got the bass player sway. Top of the line players, all of them. Bob is a master, funny as shit! You should go."
Gonna be a lot of people there?
"It's Bob. It will be packed. The professionals of Dallas know what's up on professional night every year. It's Bob, man!"
Sounds like a lot of people, not really my scene.
"Not your scene? Not your scene?!? This ain't no scene. This is tunes. Tunes is the thing. Nobody gives a shit about a damn scene. Don't be such a dope. Come on! Go."
What's it cost?
"What?! Seriously. 20 bucks or something."
Drinks? Are they pricey?
"You sound like the biggest amatuer. Nevermind, forget I brought it up. Watch the weatherman talk on TV about temperatures and pipe wrapping and the homeless."
Yeah, need to rest up.
"Why do you need to rest up?"
Going out on New Years Eve. Gonna eat and drink and dance.
"Of course. Where?"
The Airport Hyatt. Coupon said they got a buffett, an ice sculpture, and a free champagne toast right as the clock hits 12. A big countdown! And DJ Brickhouse is rocking the music. Think we might UBER. Getting a haircut, maybe. Wanna look sharp.
'Cool.'
Wanna go?
'Fuck no.'