CHAPTER
TWO - Amy Bob's "I Am Born"CHAPTER
TWO - Amy Bob's "I Am Born"In downtown Cincinnati, the STARBUCKS radar goes off signaling success as we approach the hotel. (After all, a day without a mocha Frappucino is a day without sunshine.) We check in at the Omni Nederland, whose 1931 Art Deco-ness we greet with a Blizzard of Aahs - Joe Bob, Richard Bob and I forego further gape-age at the Italianate marble columns, German silver and intricate gold carvings and head to a bar. Matthew Bob, apparently not in need of additional blurred vision due to having lost his glasses, heads upstairs to call Fiona and hit the hay.
The hotel is REALLY awesome - a National Historic Landmark built by the WPA for $7 million - a sum unheard of in the 1930's. Later in the visit, we three bust through an upscale wedding reception like some kind of spastic Mod Squad in order to behold the Hall of Mirrors, a truly stunning room on the mezzanine floor. Joe Bob croons some Frank into a nearby mike but the hired big band is unfazed (without his signature leisure suit, Joe Bob is unrecognizable!). Richard Bob starts having flashbacks induced by a camera flash. I freak out while facing the "real me" in so many mirrors. All of us fail miserably at blending in with the tuxedo'ed and heeled crowd despite our loud spewing of "But I knew her when she was in high school... Quelle tramp!" and such....BUT I DIGRESS!
Up at 8 am on Saturday after pretending to sleep (ah, the perils of time zone travel)... We're whisked off to the studios of WNKU in a van. I am thrilled to see Riverboat Casino ads on the side of the van and try desperately to remember if a flush beats two pair - but we arrive at WNKU before I can say "double down" (or even spell it at that early hour)! Matthew pores over the new publicity shots (taking new photos proved much less expensive than plastic surgery so I'd look like Lori Bob) and approves almost all of them (remember, he can't really see). We laugh a lot at WNKU, and, despite their kindly outward appearances the 3 guys make the new girl sing a lead on the air (bear in mind it's still way-asleep-o'clock Pacific Time)... The station proves a conducive environment (uh...we could record there) for piecing together the tune we're doing in a few weeks for Beck's Brewery in Germany - a Bobs rendition of the Joe Cocker hit "Sail Away" currently used in their commercials. After severely trying the patience of the waiting promoter and van guy, we finish up and head off to our reallyquicksoundcheck at Cinci's grand Music Hall.
The Symphony runs late so the show's delayed -we're on a double-bill with The Persuasions, who share our dressing room. They're way cool guys who hang with us briefly before their set. We simultaneously run "Through the Wall" (well, the song "Through the Wall" - our full superpowers don't kick in until July) since I haven't done it yet! Upon learning that "Sing, Cincinnati!" is sponsored by Jif and Folgers, there ensues an immediate but palpable group jones for decaf extra crunchy peanut butter.
After the show, Joe Bob and friends Debra and James usher me and Richard Bob (Matthew Bob's Mom-Bob and other relative-Bobs from Columbus came down and they dined together) to Trivet's Antique and Boutique, a time warp of massive depth. Here we browse with unmitigated jaw droppage at this packed-to-the- bellbottoms ultimate but kind of smelly repository of 1960's and 70's artifacts. Joe Bob pored through piles of plaid pants in the basement ("10 minutes!" the surly, non-shirted, eternally tan owner yelled at him). Richard poked around tie dyes for daughter Ashley. Debra and I rediscovered patches and "Sock it To Me" signs under the watchful eye of a tall, mannequin in corduroy. But by far the crowning glory of Trivet's lies not in its "for sale" items but upstairs in the "by invitation only" room, reachable only via a hand operated elevator/deathtrap. Assembled behind paneled glass, untouchable and surreal, stand mannequins of 35 United States Presidents (up to Nixon) in choir-like tiers. The display, apparently the pride of the owners, proved both interesting and disturbing (even to poker-faced Richard- Bob!) what with Hoover wearing nailpolish (some of the bodies of the mannequins were female), Lincoln leaning forward as if to upchuck and Nixon's right arm spazzing in Joe Cocker-esque convulsion ("Sail Away!") Keen Mr, Greene observed that there were really only five distinct molds for the faces, with slight alterations for individual characteristics. This revelation promptly soothed our collective shame at not being able to instantly recognize (most of) our country's great leaders!
The coda of our Cincinnati adventures included a spicy Cajun dinner at Redfish, marveling at the many restaurant bands in the city, and the glorious discovery of a strange store called THE CHONG, INC. which sparked unending speculation about what "The Chong" exactly is. After several attempts to define this term, it's decided that one aspires to be The Chong in all aspects of life - it's something like Achieving Utmost Coolness, as in "Frank was The Chong, man." So we've got something new to aspire to. Now if I could only stop dreaming about a demonic Truman head clawing its way out of the display...
