Last night’s Strut exceeded our expectations; we started at 5:00, before the first band had strum a note, and left with the police sweep at 10:30 (yes, a hundred cops walking behind a row of cars with blue lights strobing ends a party). The Strut is, I’m proclaiming, our favorite night in Chattanooga, and this morning, thinking about it, I realized that Chris and I value raw, unpolished fun. Wine Over Water, a genteel fundraiser hosted on the walking bridge, doesn’t entice us; hob-nob with local professionals, no thanks. But the opportunity to hang out in Maggie G’s—a hole-in-the-wall stand-by in the African-American community with pumping music and 40-ounce beers—and see our white thirty-year-old friend Mike grinding with a 60-year-old black woman, now that’s a good time!
And the barbeque. We waited for an hour for two of Lin-Way’s sandwiches which we ate on a couch on the sidewalk, watching the sweep approach. Sloppy with slaw and sauce, the barbeque was the perfect therapy following our hours in the sun and humidity, the abundant beer and laughter that left us exhausted. Perfection.
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