27 March 2017
Saturday Night in the Fraser Valley - Cherrydale Roller Derby and DOA
There has been plenty to do already as British Columbia's general election is only about six weeks away. Few campaigns are as ready as they would like to be, there is always one more thing a campaign manager or central campaign organizer wishes was done when the lights get turned off at the end of the day. Yesterday was Saturday however. Everybody was let loose early to blow off some steam however the fuck they liked.
I chose to catch some roller derby out in Cherrydale. Their super junior, junior and senior squads all had bouts. I made it in time to see the senior women's squad, the Wooly Bullies, go toe to toe with the Dope City Flying Squad.
There was no beer garden so it was a good thing I had my flask with me. Two hours without a drink will just about hospitalize me these days.
There was all sorts of items up for grabs on a silent auction table. Appears as though it is difficult as saying no to the Hells Angels as it is to say no to Cherrydale roller girls if they want something. Got out-bid on all that shit and did not win the 50/50 or the raffle either. At least Sonja and I get to keep the t-shirts I bought.
The derby itself was as sexy and violent as you will find anywhere on a planet hurtling toward atomic boom doom faster than ever. Sometimes there is a star player who twinkles a little more than the rest of her bruised comrades worth noting but it would be unfair to do so this time around: every last player was in top condition and ready to rumble.
I did, however, get to see what gives me more joy than anything at a roller derby bout. The ear to ear grin of a jammer who has broke through the pack for her team - free skating her way to points on the board for her team and applause for her elusiveness on the polished concrete. When that happens everybody in the audience can see the value of roller derby in a young woman's life. Roller girl jammers smile because they have broke free - there is no greater feeling than that: when you are free you can do any fucking thing you want - something our society still tries and keep out of the grasp of women far too much.
Derby finished, I got in the car and drove back to Steepleton where DOA were playing the sleaziest dive bar in town. It was a good thing I stopped at the liquor store for some Bushmills to refill my flask because the bar's liquor license had been revoked for serving under aged Christians.
I stood by the bar anyway and enjoyed first Maple Ditch's ska-tastic Boneheads and then DOA who did all they ever have to do for me when I see them: play "2+2" one of the greatest rock 'n' roll songs ever written.
As I stood there by the bar I noticed it stank worse than any bar I have ever been in all my life and I have been in a lot of bars that smell bad as camping ass. The police should tear down the walls of the joint to find out how many bodies are rotting behind the drywall.
Being an all ages show there were lots of kids there. Some of them did not even look old enough to be babysitters. Sometimes it seems like nobody but old motherfuckers like me still listen to hard core rock 'n' roll. Good of the young ones to prove me wrong.
The kids are alright.