To preface, this is the New Place Lounge in Dearborn, Michigan, pictured from the outside:
And this is the New Place Lounge pictured from the inside:
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:
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.
(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.)