After the shenanigans of Friday night, I slept in until noon on Saturday. After doing a few things around the house, I ventured to the Blue Moon to meet Matt Mays. The tall and engaging singer/songwriter/guitarist and I talked for well over an hour and he provided me with some good material for his chapter in my book. I had a pint of some special seasonal brew, but Matt's previous night in Buffalo was apparently about as late and fun-filled as mine was, so he just opted for water. I pointed him to the dollar store across the street where David Arquette was spotted a few weeks earlier and went home.
But Queen and Broadview beckoned again at 7 p.m., as I had made dinner reservations for eight other friends at The Real Jerk. I love jerk food. After a couple of hours of food, drinks and conversation, we went a couple doors down the street to the Opera House, where The Novaks were opening for Matt Mays & El Torpedo.
The Novaks are a rock band from St. John's, Nfld. that shows a lot of promise with its Stones meet Sloan sound. El Torpedo was up next, and the sold-out house erupted. Matt has developed a pretty fervent fanbase in a short time. The band didn't disappoint, as it delivered a blistering set of songs from Matt's two albums.
JC, Tara, Tracy, JR and I headed back to the Horseshoe after the show to catch Sharon Jones again. It was another hot show. Apparently I'm now officially Sharon's Toronto beer opener, as she asked me to crack one open for her (no-one else backstage apparently had my knack for slamming down caps on the edge of desks) before the encore. There were more beers and pleasantries exchanged again and, what do you know, 3 a.m. had rolled around again. Tima had taken a powder earlier in the night, but since JC and Jordan had left for Niagara Falls to gamble and begin their football road trip about a half earlier, Tara stepped into the breach and invited Tracy, JK and I back to her place.
Upon arrival, I went through the liquour cabinet and fridge to check on ingredients and invented a new cocktail. From this moment on, the mixture of vodka, melon liqueur and apple juice shall be known as The McLean. Damn, it was tasty. Tracy and JK left a bit before me while Tara and I talked and had one last nightcap. I didn't feel like an hour-long walk home again, so I stopped in a 7-11 and got some cab fare from an ATM and picked up a pre-packaged western omelette and bacon sandwich while I was at it. By the time I got home, ate my sandwich and checked some e-mails, it was 6 a.m. again.