[Dixielandjazz] San Diego Dixieland Jazz Festival as experienced by two local College Students

[Steve Barbone]

The below article is from the San Diego State University "Daily Aztec",
12/4/07 and was written by Conor Shapiro, senior staff columnist. He is a
graduating senior this year and a political science major.

(My namesake Steve Barbone PhD, (Spinoza mavin) teaches Philosophy there)

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

San Diego State Daily Aztec - December 4, 2007.

Ever since I watched "The Talented Mr. Ripley," I've been into jazz. Not
like Kenny G. (that's weak, my-life-is-worse-than-anybody jazz), but Bebop,
Dixieland and Hot Jazz.

Two weekends ago, I went to a Dixieland Jazz Festival, and it blew my mind.
I went with a friend-girl, Wendy, who used to play the trombone. She said
she blew with the best of them. I was impressed.

Unfortunately, the mood of the festival was blue because I had injured my
back hours before attending. It didn't help that my blue cheese salad was
hitting the stomach harder than usual. But the rhythm and blues put me at
ease and my back pain blew over before I knew it.
 
Somehow during the festival, I ended up yelling at old people - twice.
When we arrived, we realized quickly that we were the youngest people
attending because the man at the ticket booth had yet to sell any youth
passes. He was so shocked that he forgot to run my credit card, so we got in
for free. 

We headed to the first auditorium we could find and saw what young people
should never ever see: old people dancing.
 
For some strange reason, all the old people dancing must've really turned
Wendy on because I could see her start to eye the dance floor. Oh no, I
thought. After a few moments, she grabbed me - and my ailing back - and
headed to the dance floor. After a couple songs, a lady older than Austin
Powers' toothbrush put her arm around us to chat.

Statue of Liberty: My, how I just love you young folks dancing. (She starts
pressing on my back.)

Me: Um, thanks. You're hurting me.

Wendy (mutters): Stop it. She's trying to be nice.

SL (squeezing harder now): Nonsense. You young people are so strong and
nimble. 

Me: Jesus, lady, you're hurting me.

Wendy (laughs awkwardly and gives me the evil eye): Oh, he's just being
silly.

SL (gets an evil look in her eye): Oh, a sly one you are. (She winks and
grabs further.) 

Me: Ow, listen Hulk Hogan, keep your damn paws to yourself.

Yeah, I yelled at a senior citizen. I did it for my protection. Later at the
festival, Wendy and I tried to find some information on local jazz hot spots
in San Diego from a guy in one of the bands.

Me: Are there any places that play upbeat stuff?

Geezer (musician): Are you two here for like a class?

Wendy: No, we just really like jazz.

Geezer (musician): Seriously, it's not funny to mock real music.

Me: Seriously, it's not funny. Listen, no joke. We legitimately enjoy jazz.

Geezer (musician): It's possible I know your professor who assigned you to
attend. At this point I realized I would have better luck if I talked to his
saxophone, so we moved along. The guy assumed we were laughing all the time
because we were mocking all that jazz - not because I'm hilarious. To
further that notion, I was limping worse than most of the grannies with
walkers. 

The next day I got some prescription meds to help heal my back. It's amazing
how much better life is when you're taking Vicodin. If only I would've had
them the day before. Wendy would've been the only one without a bottle.

-This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Daily Aztec.