Drunken Recollection… “Where’s Rock Bottom?”

To preface, this is the New Place Lounge in Dearborn, Michigan, pictured from the outside:

Uncensored

And this is the New Place Lounge pictured from the inside:

Uncensored

Now imagine a night that I had been drinking, um, for a good six hours, and someone told me she was going to be at the above new place lounge:

Scent-sored

Now imagine my shock at this news, and me running outside to promptly call them.  Here’s how the conversation sort of went:

LADY – New Place Lounge.

ME – Is Debbie Gibson going to play there?!

LADY – You don’t have to yell.  I can hear you perfectly fine.

ME – I’m sorry.  It sounded loud on your end so I tried to compensate!  Is it true Debbie Gibson is going to be playing at your bar?!

LADY – You’re still yelling.  (unintelligible)  She’ll be playing at Rock Bottom.

ME – Rock Bottom?  Where’s Rock Bottom?!

LADY – (hangs up)

I immediately turned to the TripleDoubleU on my phone to find out where a Rock Bottom was locally because I knew there was one in Chicago, but my efforts were fruitless.  I gave up and decided to research the next day.

A couple of hours of sleep and a McDonald’s breakfast later, I translated what I’d actually heard:

LADY – For her to play here, she’d have to hit rock bottom.

TAH-DAH!

(SIDENOTE: I should have also prefaced that in my preadolescence, I was in love with Debbie Gibson.  Don’t click this – it’s the gayest straight thing I ever wrote.)

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