A Working Man’s Evening Time is special

The lengthy working day reached its bitter end and began to settle into the evening. I accepted procrastination as if it was a necessity, sinking into my couch while watching the WrestleMania re- run on Peacock. The last time my attention was fixated on live wrestling, I was in my early teens watching Triple H executing the Pedigree on a wrestler I struggle to remember. What I can recall is the event was on Monday Night Raw and not long after did I receive the N64 game, Wrestlemania 2000. Childhood nostalgia was unearthed in such a way, presenting itself in a form of relaxation, blurring the sense of time and space in the passing moments. My teenage daughter was in the middle of doing her homework on her Chromebook as I shot a glance over to her, thinking about what her nostalgic moments will be when she reaches my age. I felt the essence of her youth run its course through my conscious as I redirected my attention to the TV screen. Roughly 20 years has passed since the last live match I watched, and it showed; I had no idea who these wrestlers were, but they seemed to possess the similar agility the wrestlers of the past had with the same funny looking costumes. I chuckled a bit before I turned my attention toward the clock. 15 minutes before 6:00. This time I shielded procrastination with the cloak of self- care. It felt warranted, I deserved it. All I needed was a tall boy, preferably Miller Lite, to make the moment complete. My good buddy Nathaniel, the singer for Kombat, messaged my phone to inform me one of my newest favorite country musicians, South Texas Tweek will be performing at Dan’s Silverleaf later that night. Nathaniel put me on to Tweek a while ago, the song Count Me In touched a soft spot in my heart and from then on, Tweek has been in my ear. Prior to the text, I was fully aware on the Tuesday Bike Night. My graphic desigy brought it to my attention the previous week. A bit of excitement was resurrected through my veins, which ultimately catapulted me out of my seat to get ready. A quick scrubba scrub scrub in my arm pits and groin area did the trick, followed by a couple of swipes of deodorant under each pit. I had the toughest time trying to find my jeans for whatever reason, but it took no time to find my bright yellow Texas shirt, hanging in between a sea of old black band t shirts that I have been meaning to get rid of for quite some time. The cool, off white tile floor in my bathroom felt refreshing against the bottom of my feet as I put my socks and boots on. Hovering of the pastel pink sink half a foot below my waist, I took one good look in the mirror. My facial hair was unkept, unacceptable to me, so I made the hasty decision to shave under my cheek bones, under and around my chin to expose my Texas made, Texas raised moustache. After I slapped on the after shave and said my goodbyes, I turned on the truck to head down to the middle of Denton.

Dan’s Silverleaf
Passing through the Denton square is always a pleasure. Despite its history (it’s Texas), one can’t help but to notice the modern eccentricities held together with by its older counterparts. With the prominence of the historical courthouse towering over the various restaurants, venues, cafes and more, the Denton square is beautiful in the early evening. Small families, a number of tourists, college students with permanent smiles and mundane conversations, coffee driven hipsters and residents occupy the sidewalks as the doors of the establishments are remain open. As I was cruising down Hickory St, my memory set me back to 2014 when the parking lot behind the Wells Fargo building was free to park in. It was much easier to make a quick right turn and park in the next available space. Even if it was completely full, it wasn’t a second later a parking space would become vacant. If you didn’t have patience, you were out of luck. Shaking my head, I passed the congested parking lot that held just as much shade from the trees as the fun times I had there. Parking was difficult to find, and Dan’s was in my view, only a couple of hundred feet away. I was forced to make a right turn onto Industrial St and left turn on Mulberry, parallel parked on the side of the apartment complex building facing Bell Ave. Upon exiting my truck, I adjusted my Texas belt buckle to make sure it was centered on my waist before I grabbed my camera to take a brisk walk back towards Industrial. Distant chatter and obnoxious laughter increased in volume as I edged around the corner to avoid a couple unaware of the photographer in their walking path. An “excuse me” would’ve been nice but the smile on the woman’s face was enough for me to not acknowledge their lack of attention or manners.

For as long as I have been a resident in Denton, Dan’s Silverleaf has been one of those bars that I would always hear about but never got around to walking inside. My level of curiosity was never high enough for me to check it out but nonetheless heard nothing but good things about the establishment. Unbeknownst to me, Dan’s Silverleaf is a lot easier to get to than from what I thought. As a matter of fact, there has been countless times I parked on the same side of the street as the establishment to eat at one of the various restaurants in the area. I felt like an ignorant fool as I was reaching closer with every step. All I had to do was simply look up to find the name in black font on teal building tucked under the awning. The patio area in the front of the establishment is surrounded by a metal fence with the height of the average person’s waist. Inside the fence is a handful of sturdy, dark wood picnic tables with even toned yellow umbrellas hovering over each table. Inside of the establishment is as unique as people occupying the space. Teal walls hiding within the grey shadows, decorated with taxidermized animals, various paintings and an assortment of miscellaneous items hanging from the ceiling. The stage took up a good chunk of the room, roughly 1/ 4 of it and stood tall enough for me take an easy step up. If I were to take a stab in the dark on how tall, roughly 3 feet from the floor. In front of the stage is a quite bit of space for the audience, swarming with semi comfortable red chair accompanied by small round tables to set your drink and cigarettes on. A few steps ahead of me to my right was the men’s and women’s restroom and to my left was the bar area that screamed Texas from various angles; a flat screen broadcasting a baseball game I failed to pay attention to, beer selection fit for a true Texas beer drinker with several beers on tap ready to go for the next person who wanted an ice-cold draft. The southern vibe of the bar was unmatched, although I never been to another bar in any other state to compare. Directly in front of me was the door that led to the outside patio area, indicated by a vibrant red sign. I figured my mild interest would lead me back towards the back but not in the moment, I wasn’t able find a definitive reason to explore any further, maybe later.

Warm smiles, custom bikes and Hotdog Country

Upon arrival, the evening was still young, but it was getting old fast. The space of the picnic tables was filled with friends of friends exchanging statements and stories to maintain the consistency of conversation. The arms and legs of the fair to pale skin Texans were decorated in vibrant or black and white tattoos, most in the similar, bold, old-school style. Trucker hats with a cowboy hat or two were aimlessly floating at eye level, bouncing in between standing bodies as the volume of voices grew. The first familiar face I came in contact with was Nathaniel and his beautiful partner Madeline. Nathaniel just came back from a week of vacationing in the Northwestern part of the nation. His long shaggy hair accentuated his round face and teddy bear cheeks. The connection from his moustache to his chops featured the attributes of southern masculinity. I swear it was as if he has gotten taller, I have gotten shorter, or my perception was totally off. Looking down, I observed the exotic boots he wore on his feet. My ignorance wasn’t able to tell if they were snakeskin or if they were from another animal I wasn’t aware of. Nonetheless, I admired his boots and gave me praise. Nathaniel went to go grab a specialty hotdog from Stoney’s Hotdog Country table when I was greeted by two more friendly faces; Chris Whetzel and Nathan Casoria from Left Hand Leather Goods. These two gentlemen were half the reason why I came to hang out, Nathan offered me a warm invite a couple of weeks ago I wasn’t going to refuse. Being invited to go out somewhere almost felt like a foreign feeling, it’s been a long while the last offer. I’m usually an exceptionally busy individual and invitations are few and far between. It gave me a good reason to leave the house and enjoy myself outside of going to hardcore show, refreshing to say the least. During our conversation, I learned the Chris is an employee at Dan’s Silverleaf. I didn’t ask but my assumption lead me to believe the possibility that he could be a bartender. Although I could’ve been 100% wrong, my memory took me back to when I took a class for six weeks in bartending. At one point, I thought being a bartender would be an awesome occupation to have under my belt but for some reason or another, I was never able to find a bartending job. A couple of minutes past during our conversation and it was imperative for me to neutralize my thirst with a cold beer. As I walked inside, I locked eyes with Stoney for the first time in real life. His lime green buttoned- down shirt accented his fiery red beard, almost within alignment to the secondary color scheme. At first glance, Stoney could be mistaken for Luke Combs with a fuller beard and green eyes. I noticed he had his hands full in delivering hotdog orders, so I left him to his duty while examining his menu. It was no surprise to the absence of a vegan option, it wouldn’t have made any sense to begin with. Nonetheless, I was thoroughly impressed behind the creativity of his specialty hot dogs.

Afterwards, I made my way to the bar to quickly grab a beer. As the bartender handed me a beer, I turned my shoulder to the left. In front of me were a few poles three feet apart from each other with a thick rope in between to separate the line for the bar to the seating area of the audience. My eye redirected toward the fellow setting up on the stage. If my assumption was correct, this gentleman was of Hispanic descent. He was a heavier set fellow with a smooth baby face and a crispy thin moustache. I was able to tell through his eyes that he had many stories to share of his tumultuous past but what truly held it together was his sense of humor along with a mild-mannered attitude. This man was none other than South Texas Tweek. I felt compelled to introduce myself, shake his hand and express my love for his music. Like a true gentleman, he took the compliment with grace and a smile as I left him to finish whatever he was doing. I didn’t want to come off a weirdo talking his ear off for an unusual amount of time. I was also eager to check out the motorcycles parked around the border of the patio

The sun finally set, the golden hour settled into the blue hour and beyond. More people arrived to fill the scene which meant twice as much chatter. It looked livelier than it was minutes before. The crowd of beautiful faces old and young brighten the night sky along with the artificial light sources from the surrounding establishments. I took noticed of the photographers with the giant light source. I made the quick assumption that they were there to capture the night in a different way. I continued to play the part as a mere spectator, making sure I wasn’t in their way of what they were trying to accomplish. My focus turned towards the custom bikes that I’ve kept my eyes on from a far. Ever since I was little, I always wanted a bike, mainly a customized bobber. they were so intriguing to me. As I grew older my fascination intensified for bikes, but my self -worth kept me at bay as dreamer. Earlier, Chris and Nathan told me that all I need was to find an older Harley sportster to be customized to the way I want. With the goal in mind and the repetitious thought of riding around on a bobber, I began to study each bike parked alongside the fence. I took notice to the couple of custom sportsters but I wasn’t for sure of the others. I didn’t care much for the specs of the bikes, I genuinely enjoyed the look and styles. I was able to imagine the labor behind taking the original frame off and designing the customs to fit the owner’s vision. I don’t know how long it takes to customize but I assumed that by the end of it, it was all worth it. Each bike had it’s own characteristic, presenting is own flare catering to it’s owner. It felt as if I was in bobber heaven.

The best country music comes from Texas

Throughout the night I was a fly on the wall making small observations, keeping count of all of the beautiful smiles flashing before my eyes. It was the perfect weather for this gathering, the beer that I had maintained its cool temperature. I found myself stealing a quick look at Nathaniel’s specialty hot dog he purchased from Stoney. Judging by the Hot Cheetos, I assumed he purchased The Tweek Dog. For a split second I thought my eyes were betraying as I saw what seemed to be green onions. I could be totally wrong. The way Nathaniel continued to devour the hot dog let me further know how delicious it was as he gobbled it down in a hungry man fashion. Within the moment, my left ear jumped to the awareness of an acoustic guitar tuning from the inside, indication that Tweek was beginning to perform. The outside crowd scurried inside to grab another round of beer and to watch the performance. At any other music performance, mainly hardcore shows, I would’ve placed myself in the front row. This time I found myself sitting in back behind the main area that was crowded with the small tables surrounded by chairs. My purpose was to get the full view of Tweek, the stage and the audience. I wanted to watch everything unfold in front of me as distant spectator and listener, like a hawk surveying the land below looking for prey. My observational skills somewhat reached its peak. The only thing behind me was the restrooms and the sound booth controlling the volume of the microphones and Tweek’s guitar. The red-orange stage lights flooded my vision, illuminating Tweek in such away, promoting a bit more energy and alertness as opposed to a calming effect. I assumed the idea behind the choice of color in the lights was to keep the audience’s attention. My assumption led me to make the decision to turn off my external light and use the light source from the stage.

As Tweek began his performance, I was engulfed by his smooth, southern energy. It was soothing to the heart from the start. Within an instant, he seduced the crowd with his drawl. In a more sophisticated sense, the native Texan dialect that he possesses stretches or carries out the vowel sound for a little longer, thus creating the “lazy” effect in his speech and singing voice. This creates a nice country tone that only a true Texan can pull off. Its organic, homegrown feel is wildly attractive to the ear and is great behind an acoustic guitar. In the narrative sense, it heightens the story telling aspect to the undeniably comfortable tone, easy for the average listener to give their undivided attention to. Mesmerized, I sat to listen and watch Tweek as he continued on, strumming the strings with natural talent, sweeping my spirit into bliss. Here and there he would add in a sense of humor in his storytelling, making his set a bit more intimate as time went on. I took notice of his drink of choice, Topo Chico. I was aware of his past issue with alcohol prior to the mention of it. I was proud of him for taking that step to bettering his life, one Topo Chico at a time. There was no sign of boredom in my body language as he continued, no sign of shaking my leg and my eyes were glued. I wasn’t much aware of anything else going on in the surroundings, I felt no need to have my head on a swivel to check out all the people passing by towards the bar. I didn’t want to get up from my seat, I didn’t want his performance to end, I wanted to stay put for the rest of the night.

And the winner is…

If you ask me, Tweek’s first performance ended too soon. I wanted him to play for throughout the rest of the night, but that would’ve been selfish on my part. I met up with Tweek outside of the door for the second time after he exited the stage and he assured me he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. By this time, the place seemed packed with more familiar, residential faces. It felt like a get together of 30-year-old bikers and their friends. Conversation after conversation filled that atmosphere, making it more comfortable to let loose, releasing tension from my shoulders. Mild social anxiety was non- existent by this time. It made it a point to introduce myself to the photographers that were in a huddle near the expensive octagon soft box. I felt like the oddball out for some reason, although I shouldn’t have. I made it a point to shake as many friendly hands as I possibly could and introduced myself. To my surprise, some individuals were interested in Bored Magazine and wanted to know a bit more about the website. It uplifted me and I was in good spirit during exchanging Instagram information amongst the photographers. I began to feel like I belonged there, as if I felt recognized for what I do and my involvement. Not long after the exchange was it time to announce the raffle winners of the night. As people began to fill back in to occupy the seats, Chris and Stoney hopped on stage with a bucket in hand filled with tickets to announce the winners. People sat and waited as Stoney dug his hand in the bucket to retrieve and ticket and call out the last four digit of each ticket. I couldn’t help but to notice Chris was wearing signature smile the ENTIRE night. It was a great sight to see him never breaking character. he generally seemed happy to exist and I loved it. The prizes for the winners included Dan’s Silverleaf apparel, $100 certificate to Left Hand Leather Goods, photography from mr_fotography and other prizes I failed to remember.

A good conclusion to a wonderful night

It was considered night by the time the drawing for the winner was over. The line extending from the bar grew larger of people purchasing more beer and whiskey shots. A little time passed before Tweek stepped back on stage for the second. Excited, I decided to put my camera down. I was done taking photos for the night. Instead of sitting further back behind the seating area, I grabbed a seat a lot closer than before; a table 2 rows away from the right of the stage, adjacent to the bar line. Tweek didn’t break his stride as he continued his performance like he never left the stage. His level of comfort on the stage showed pure talent and skill, blessing the night and fans alike. As I gazed at the southern gentleman on stage, I gathered the overwhelming inspiration to pick my acoustic back up and continue my musical journey as an aspiring country musician. Heartfelt lyrics, embellished cowboy chords with a bit of Texas swag to ride the rest of this fine Tuesday away. See ya next time, Tweek