And I remember walking through the rain with Reverend Jim. We went into Grandma’s Kitchen and looked out the window at Lake Street. Just another dark morning of coffee and cold air. The night before was a long one. Green Jeans and I had been drinking Special Export in the alley waiting for the doors to open up. Who would want to miss an all ages Soul Asylum show at Club 27. That’s when the police car came around the corner. I dropped my beer into a garbage can. Two cops got out. One asked Green Jeans for his driver’s license and the other asked me why threw away my beer. I told her I was done with it and I didn’t want to litter. Green Jeans was fumbling with his wallet and trying to explain that he kept it full of Zig Zags so he could roll his own smokes. By the time the authorities tired of us and we made it upstairs, Soul Asylum was roaring through “Closer to the Stars”. About half way in Dave Pirner took his hand off the guitar, pulled out a roll of bills and started tossing money into the assembled. All over the muddy floor we scrambled and I managed to snatch up three fivers before the song was over. I was telling Reverend Jim all about it while we poured over our half finished research papers and mopped up runny eggs with buttery toast. About an hour after the sun came up, we settled with the waitress and went out side. I planned on heading back to school, but the Schooner Tavern was just opening up and there was time for a couple beers before lunch. The Institute would have to wait. The days sail away and float back again.
