This was like, the most normal thing to happen all night.
First of all, photos from the madness can be found here. The rest of y’all that have photographic evidence can email them to me and I’ll add them to the set.
Now, I am of the mind that if you’re in a bad cover band that performs at the Kowloon in Saugus on Saturday nights in February, you should OWN that shit. I’m talking sequins and feathers and the whole bit. Mick Jagger it up. You should not be wearing Burberry scarves and yodeling your way through Carrie Underwood numbers. You also should MOST DEFINITELY have some Journey or some Styx or some REO Speedwagon in your repertoire and you SHOULD NOT be snotty when people ask you to play said music. And if you are? Then you should be prepared to be heckled by people from the internets. Honestly, how does one get this far in life – let along be sporting the impressive bouffant of the cover band drummer – without knowing a little “Any Way You Want It?” What is this world coming to?
In retrospect, Amy and I should have commandeered the mic and delighted everyone (read: caused much pain and anguish) with our killer Jovi vocals. Or, at the very least, we could have all sung along to a rousing rendition of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” modified with Dougie-centric lyrics:
Doug’s the man
Goin’ to work
Got his bat, got his suitcase
Dreams that someday he just might becoooooome
Doug! Doug, Doug, Doug! Doug, Doug, Doug! Doooouuuuuug! Doug!
Had any of that happened, I’m not sure it could have topped the sheer spectacle of the ridiculous that was Doug Mirabelli Appreciation Night at the Kowloon in Saugus (commemorative t-shirts coming soon. No, I am SO not kidding).
On a personal note, I got to meet some of my fantastic and hilarious readers which is always good times and never fails to humble me. I mean, these are people who, when they read the sentence, “You know what we should do? Go to Saugus and have a party for Dougie,” not only didn’t insist that I put down the crack pipe immediately but actually said, “Dude! Sign me up.” It’s just really nice to know that I’m not alone in my psychosis. And they’re already clamoring for the next event.
Also, The Rick and The Sue, parents of Basegirl, joined the festivities and came away with about 25 new friends who are now invited to, among other things, all future family fests, clambakes and probably my wedding. See what happens when you get in good with the fam? You get to come to fests! Though, as Amy pointed out, it’s not a true fest without The Rick marching around with a clipboard and trying to browbeat people into participating in a foosball tournament. But there was flaming food and Dougie’s head on a stick (courtesy of Sam) so there’s that.
At one point, a group of be-suited strangers – bachelor party at the Kowloon perhaps? – were dancing with StickDoug on the dance floor, including one dude who, after a couple Tsing Taos, looked so very much like Dougie himself that I feared a small rip in the space time continuum.
I am willing to bet these things only happen in Saugus.
I feel like, the farther and farther we get from the actual event, the more it will seem like a fever dream. Based on a few photos in that Flickr set, I’m not entirely sure the whole thing wasn’t an LSD hallucination. Because I’m quite confident that if I were to take the drugs, I couldn’t imagine anything more crazy than a table for 30 in a giant ship, complete with plastic leis, volcano mural, cover band playing “Listen to Your Heart” and “La Isla Bonita” and food on sticks. You could not write this shit if you tried. Like in twenty years, I expect to get random emails saying, “So remember that time at the Kowloon? Was there unironic deployment of sequins on the dance floor? There was, wasn’t there? And small children dancing with StickDoug in one hand and an egg roll in the other? Okay, just checking.” And yet? And yet I’m positively certain it would have been Dougie’s jam.
So for all of you that were there, thanks for coming out and making the evening legen-wait for it-dary! And for those of you who didn’t (you know who you are) you totally need to come to the next event. Perhaps Kevin Millar Memorial Night staged at the KFC in Revere.