Bumper’s Landing means summer!
And if you have lived very long in Michigan, you know that there area few things to go hand in hand with that. Like, spring rains, summer heat and if you are anywhere near the great lakes, FISH FLIES!
Let me back up just a moment . . .
We played last Friday night at Bumper’s Landing, In sunny Harrison Twp., to a group of crazy-go-lucky water-worshipers, who were doing what they do best . . . par-tay-ing-ing!
They party, come rain or shine, or fly.
Which is good, because . . . well, hang on a moment.
Let me begin by saying that Carl and i have played two dates at Bumper’s, so far this year, and both dates have seen some iffy weather. First time we played, it actually poured. That’s all well and good, since we were inside.
This time, it was partly sunny, but much cooler than it should have been for a date this late in the summer. All that meant was that there weren’t as many bikinis as there usually are.
So, we played and people enjoyed. Everyone is so happy at Bumper’s. They drink, they eat, they drink some more, they listen and sing and laugh and cheer, and they drink some more!
It’s all good. We had the opportunity to play for some old friends. A good friend, actually who has recently become a ship captain. congrats, Mr. Paul!
So, anyway, we played several sets, and got to the point in the night that we had about an hour left to go. During our break, one of the managers came running out to the cabana, and yelled at them to “Turn off those light!”
I thought that was very odd for her, since her character was usually happy and calm. In a few moments, I found out exactly why she was going crazy when she saw the lights.
Because, now all the lights of the bar were out, EXCEPT ours illuminating our band equipment and us.
Enter, Mr. Mayfly!
No, a LOT of MR. Mayflies. And, maybe a few Mrs. Mayflies as well. And cousin, and uncle and nephew flies. The whole damn family of flies were there to appreciate our last set.
So many, that Carl and I were covered in flies.
When I say covered, I mean, covered. They weren’t bothering anyone else at Bumper’s, because they were all smart enough to turn the lights off. The beacon that those relentless bugs could navigate to from miles around, was our band lights.
They were on the microphones, the lights, the speakers, the keyboards, the guitars and amps. After what seemed like only a few short moments, I couldn’t even make a chord on my guitar without squashing several of them.
We tried to play through it. We held out for about fifty minuets. One of the girls dancing right in front of the stage, took pity on us, and came up to brush them off.
We might have chocked and died if it weren’t for the selfless acts of the Bumper’s Landing, “Fly girls!”
It was a night that Carl and I will never forget. As a matter of fact, for the next few jobs we had after that, we were reminded of the fish fly night at that fun Bar; because every time we opened a case or guitar, we found a few more stow-aways.
We will be back at Bumper’s if a few days. Hopefully, the night of the fish flies has come and gone for another year.
Bugs don’t bug us much. But, when we can’t even finish a night, it becomes a problem.
Thanks again to that chivalrous Fly Gal who wouldn’t let the music die; whom ever she was. A true, American hero.
Rb
