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"The Notorius 'Lunch Hour In Duluth' Story"
Of all our hundreds of stories,
there are maybe a dozen that are frequently requested.
This is one of them, dusted off and polished for you,
good as new..
HOW WE RUINED LUNCH HOUR IN DULUTH.
We were not recording stars,
and had no idea we would ever have hit records.
We were just three Florida musicians,
Misty, me, and our guitar player Doug Tarrant,
who somehow wound up in the north country in December.
Our booking was at the Black Bear Lounge in the Hotel Duluth.
Our dog, Brubeck, accompanied us on the tour.
He looked like a Jack Russell Terrier,
but he wasn't anything you could pin down.
Brubeck would not eat dog food.
He would eat cat food
or a foul smelling liver and garlic concoction
that Misty cooked up for him.
He would also eat complete motel mattresses,
medium sized linoleum floors,
and my better clothes.
We loved him!
Misty felt a need to dress Brubeck up
like a rich lady's poodle.
He would be led through the lobby
wearing a leopard print dog coat,
and four yellow boots,
at least one of which was always turned around
with the toe facing grotesquely backwards.
He would be shaking a rear leg trying to get rid of it.
This gets worse.
The hotel had a classy restaurant which was below ground level.
The sidewalk and snow covered grass
were exactly at eye level with the lunch crowd inside.
The place was packed with well-dressed business people
enjoying their food,
when Misty's legs appeared in the far right window,
then the leash,
and finally what looked like a dog in a pimp suit.
The pimp dog went right up to the restaurant window
and proceeded with what seemed to be a long overdue bowel movement.
Misty, totally embarrassed at being the focus of every eye in the crowd,
tried her best to look like she'd never seen this dog before in her life.
It didn't work, and Brubeck went earnestly on and on.
Then she made it worse by trying to drag him away
while he was still going.
A LOT worse!
The lunch hour business dropped off abruptly after that.
Copyright © August 12, 2006 Jack Blanchard. All rights reserved.
Reprinted by permission.