This weekend has been very full for me, too full to fit in one post without this blog turning into a chronological journal of events (which I am determined to keep it from being).  Not all information is necessary.  So today, I will dwell on the beauty of Friday night: a crazy outlandish night for me.

The many fun, small town Afton activities had ended with Cathy and me putting Eddy to bed and wishing him well.  It was late, nearly 10 o'clock in fact, and he had a long day.  As he drifted to sleep and Cathy settled down to do some reading, my adrenaline increased as I quickly washed my hair, picked out clothes, and tried to reach Alyssa on the phone via Skype.  I hoped she wouldn't get lost trying to find our house.  In a last desperate attempt I drove up on the hill to get cell phone reception.  Yes!  She answered.  Just crossing the bridge.  Perfect.  I gave the remaining directions to our house, and rushed back home to finish packing all the "just in case" items for this unfamiliar event.  Headlights shone in the drive and I ran and jumped in the van.

"Go up here and turn right, it's shorter.  Thanks for doing this, Alyssa, especially for someone you've only met once."  "No problem!  I'm excited to let you experience this for the first time!  It'll be great."

Conversation opened and deepened as the 35 minute drive rolled on.  Why hadn't I gotten to know this girl earlier?  She was sweet, and interesting, and involved in the same endeavors I am or have been.  She was friends with my friends, goes to my church, she's my age, and loves music and language.  And yet I never had the gumption to venture a conversation for the sole reason of not having done so before.  Now was my chance.  I would make a connection, and I did.

The city here we come!  All the fear and vulnerability I had about a strange city late at night had, as I hoped, been abated by joining someone else familiar with the scene.  A parking garage, a downtown walk among clubbers, and then, there it was.... "dakota".  The cursive blue neon stood out against the shaded intersection, and the door was bustling with comers and goers.  If you, dear reader, have never experienced a "cover charge" before, I beg you to do so.  It is terribly exciting, though expensive.

Reunion with musician friends, and new meetings with a circle of friends I'd never put together in my mind.  Beverages and tables, introductions and fun stories fill the room with noise until a jovial voice transcends them all.  My friend John Raymond stands at the microphone holding a trumpet, with dress pants, untucked white dress shirt, and skinny black tie. He stands in front of four other casual young men on a mini grand piano, a bass, full drum set, and saxophone.  Twenty-five minutes to midnight the music begins.

The mood sets in as the pure sounds of emotion fill the air.  Fingers and toes of the listeners tap in response to the smooth tones.  Free jazz melts into classics of John Coltrane, Miles Davis and others, but mostly John's newly written masterpieces reign over the ensemble of perfectly cooperating instruments.  All play together in harmony until, who knows how, you hear the trumpet above the rest.  He displays a wide range of scales and jumps filled with emotion and skill as every tone quality possible to the trumpet is heard.  Fluid and free, yet somehow in sync with the rhythm, the musical story unfolds, getting more and more exciting until the trumpet solo comes to a climax and ends.  A large applause overlaps the others playing on, and John walks to the side.  Next, as before, all play together until Alyssa's boyfriend on the saxophone transcends.  More applause, and so goes the song, each dominating in a magnificent solo, and each introducing his fellow musician, piano, bass, then drums, tell each their own full story in all its spontaneity and craft. A full band finale of the original theme concludes the piece to the exhilaration of the audience.

Every so often John introduces each player in appreciation for their individual skill, and describes the titles and motives of each song, including "Dani's theme" in honor of his beautiful new wife of three weeks sitting front and center.

As I sat swallowing the awkwardness of knowing no one there very well, I looked around the room.  Couples young and old filled the booths around the perimeter, and women in full jazz attire of long wavy locks, full makeup and seductive, formfitting dresses and jewelry spotted the tables.  Men with ruffled hair and casual dress clothes joined them, as well as the many college students in jeans, supporting their graduated friends on stage.  Alcohol was abundant, but only made everyone mellower rather than rowdy.  It was just the way I pictured a jazz club to be, how I'd seen it in the movies.  A very large chalkboard covered half of one wall with huge letters advertising tonight's and upcoming guest performers, and there was a mezzanine with more tables, surrounding the whole room.

Nearly 2am now, as we each hug goodbye to those we know, and are off.  Another 35 minute drive and conversation continues to gain interest.  But we're both exhausted.  "See you tomorrow at the wedding!"  "Yep, get some sleep."

I slink into the silent house still swimming in the sounds in my head.  Too tired to be anxious about anything, I swoon to the imaginary music, fold some laundry, and collapse into bed at 3am. "I hope Eddy sleeps in."