A buttery moon rose over the left shoulders of the Elky Summers as they wended their way towards Indianapolis last Saturday night. The band was slated to play a Punk Rock Night at the historic Melody Inn that evening. Kay and Jana set out from Fort Wayne to meet Jackie and Oona for load-in and a nice relaxing beer, perhaps a burrito. Little did they know they were driving straight towards a nightmare scene.
Suddenly the sky turned to pitch, the clouds churned, lightening bolts crashed to the ground all around them. The little car was buffeted by sideways gusts. Hail smashed the windshield as Jana and Kay’s eyes grew wider and wider. Just as it was looking the worst, the pavement was dry and the winds were gone. They had out run the weather front. Driving on the crest of a violent storm, Jana and Kay sped into Indianapolis with it snapping at their heels.
The highway turned into a city boulevard. A river of red lights appeared near the Indiana State Fairgrounds, troopers dressed in reflective coats redirected the snarled traffic onto progressively smaller neighborhood streets. State, city and county police cruisers flew by the stalled traffic headed one direction, loaded ambulances poured by in the opposite. Whatever had happened, it was serious. The girls didn’t know, they just kept focused on trying to get to the club.
Threading down alleys and side streets, they finally found their way to Illinois Street and the Melody Inn. The relief was palpable when it was apparent that everyone had arrived safe, Jackie with her adorable cousin and Oona with her handsome husband.
The Merch table was assembled, outfits were exclaimed over and all was in readiness for the show to begin. Misunderstood stood at the ready to begin the night’s entertainment. The lights of the club flickered, everything went down, stuttered back and forth.
An eerie stillness filled the room. No electricity. Iphone flashlight apps flickered on revealing everyone sitting exactly as they were. The bartenders announced that everyone was on shot and beer rations only as the compressors driving the beverage guns lost pressure. This was not a hardship, this is the Melody Inn.
A crowd forms on the sidewalk outside the club. People quietly wonder if the show will be canceled. Calls are made, plans reformulated. Like a flash, a car pulls up haphazardly into the parking lot across the street. The doors fling open and like a one-man clown car, a dervish of a meth-head comes whirling out, spitting, babbling and flapping towards the club.
She lands like a level 4 tornado, ripping through the club, smashing into quiet tables and overturning ashtrays. How can one person wreak so much havoc? The bartenders confer. At that precise moment, the lights spring back on, startling the collected clientele, Ms. meth shrieks and falls face first into a four top. Rich, the promoter screams at the band on stage to start and in the mayhem, the first band of the evening kicks into their set.
To Be Continued…