Cafe Hitch-hike

2022-10-22

At the jukejoint, on the edge of things as we know them

It’s a relief to open the windows and not get the invisible blast of humidity. Marley the charming mini-dachshund just barked at a squirrel who darted past our patio. I relax after a night of dub reggae and rum with Tex the neighbor. We went to see a local show and the reggae/ rock band played a bunch of songs I liked and could sing along. They played in a little bar on sidestreet off our fishing village’s main boulevard, and it was perfect for us.

The B became an ‘it’ place and I really miss the hell out of what it was like 10 years ago. They had nice shops, cafes and music venues and still do, but with more of everything. It’s gotten more posh yet edgy at the same time, and I have to be in the mood to go to there.

Although The B was only a few blocks away, the neighborhood was quiet and far fewer people strolled around. The venue was the only building with lights in a dark neighborhood, and we thought it looked like a juke joint. It kind of had that feel with its rustic farmhouse look. People of all ages were dancing and falling into the hypnosis of the music, and they were buying the band a lot of drinks. By their third set, the band (and everyone) was so drunk yet happy that they transitioned from peppy songs to long jam-reggae-rock sets. If they didn’t, the band and everyone would had fallen over each other. Everyone downshifted into rhythmically swaying or slumped into each other on chairs or sofas. It was like the better part of a jukejoint and without the knife fights (hahah).

I needed this relief, this fucking stress from that fucking long, drawn out work project from hell. My project group is writing its conclusions and those fucking fuckers will be fucking done this week. I yanked the fucking straggler of the group to get them to start our 3-page conclusion for one aspect of the project. The straggler didn’t do shit throughout the process and made it clear they were a part because they had to and would put in the minimum effort (the last part I told their supervisor, and I’m sure the s. didn’t do shit).

As I said, this year felt like much less fun.

I’ve been watching the news and I’m sure we’re all on the conveyor belt leading to a regressive oblivion. All the cruelty and repression of the pre-Jim Crow and pre-civil rights eras returns but with the added bonus of surveillance (thank you, technology), ignorance and subjective realities. I don’t have a good feeling about our upcoming midterm elections and all the insane measures people are taking to snuff voting and other fundamental rights while claiming state sovereignity (the belief it can self-rule without intervention from a national-level government). Oh, but the same people who want those laws are the same who feel entitled to federal support when it’s convenient for them (especially with emergencies, like the recent hurricanes).

Like I said, I’m wondering when those of us who disagree with politics will be expelled. Is that being paranoid? It’s not considering that authoritarian regimes do that, and with worse was to come (legalized harassment and intimidation, imprisonment or death). If or when I get my eviction papers, I’ll note here first that I’ll simply pack what I can, bring the dog, fill the tank in my car, and leave quietly.

As I swayed and danced along in the neighborhood jukejoint with the Zacaba rum in my system, a part of me wondered when or how all of that would happen. Would I be able to do this, where I was, in the days to come?

downwind | upstream