![]() ![]() ![]() I set my amp down next to the stage and smiled at the band, nodding to them. A few more small tables were strewn down the hallway. The guitarist, a blonde, was singing and playing straight to the wall in front of her. The drummer had a hodgepodge kit made up of drums from different drum kits and it was turned sort of diagonally, projecting up the hallway towards the front door. The ten-foot-long widened area to the left had been built up about 10 inches, making a 4 feet by 9 feet stage area. A five-foot-wide hallway widened to the left, making this section of the business a 9-foot-wide hallway. I nudged past a couple of empty round, small 2-seater tables and saw the two-person band in a narrow recession in the wall on one side of the long hallway. I could almost see where the music was coming from. Two employees behind the counter to the left in front of me greeted me and seeing my amplifier, pointed down the hall. Opening the door to the pizzeria, the thick, warm smell of decadent pizza toppings hit me along with the full volume of the music, and the jangle of a guitar. I could hear a drummer and a woman singing inside. ![]() ![]() I parked in some parallel parking along the street and lugged my amp to the door, hugging it to my chest. The venue was actually a pizza place, a long hallway behind a door in a brand new line of shops just to the north of the then-new music row roundabout. It’s always a strange feeling when you show up to a venue and someone who isn’t on the bill is playing. ![]()
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