Saturday night brought end of era, strong new smoke

Saturday night brought end of era, strong new smoke

The Norman Transcript

— I was there for two firsts last Saturday, a sad one and a happy one.
My first instinct was to tell of my recent adventures in the classic good-news-then-bad news format. After several coffees and a Sobe energy drink, I decided otherwise.
It was a little somber Saturday night at Campus Corner nightspot Liberty D's for a reason many of you know already. The show was a double bill featuring Texas rockers iKiLLCaRS and Norman act Drives Like a Dream. Both bands were good; iKiLLCaRS put out an impressive level of rocking proportionate to their many capital letters and way more noise than I expected from two skinny dudes from Longhorn country. The Stooges are fittingly among their admitted influences.
Local psychedelic rock act Drives Like a Dream was great fun (hope I got the song titles closer to right this time). Their performances of "We're All Gonna Die," "Knee High to a Pygmy's Wife," "Cocktail" and "It Doesn't Matter" brought a smile to my face at a time I didn't much feel like smiling. If there's a higher calling to which any musician may aspire, I have not heard of it.
Their new drummer, Richard Haas, is working out quite well; to my layman's ears he sounded like he'd been with the band for years.
Of course, I was a bit distracted the whole evening by a dark cloud of sorts: It was also the last show at Liberty D's as we know it.
The fact that, for some reason I still don't know because I was too scared to ask, one staff member that night took a minute to use a wrench to further break down a T-shirt filled with broken glass bottles just added an absurdist tinge to the whole scene. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little like smashing something myself, though.
I won't lie about something else either; I wasn't a huge supporter of the place during its grungy heyday in the '90s. I didn't arrive at OU until late 1994 and if I had become committed to weekly attendance at any local tavern, I might still be in school or flipping burgers or both (even being fairly town-phobic, I still took eight years to achieve a B.A. in journalism -- go ahead, insert your favorite party-animal movie quote here).
But enough of the road not taken. I had seen a few acts at Liberty D's years ago, before the place was to my great surprise sold, then converted into the Red Dirt Cafe (not a bad name, but a bit heavy on country-influenced music for my tastes) for a few years. To whatever kind soul(s) tried to revive this legendary hangout these last several months, I thank you deeply.
It meant a lot to a slice of Norman, just not a slice that was both well-heeled and massive. It probably doesn't mean much, but one of the times I paid my arithmetically-deficient tax (woo, Powerball!) last December, I promised myself to split the cash down the middle with the place's owners if it hit. Of course, I also promised myself I'd use part of my half to bring back the Quarter House so I could eat awesome onion burgers, then play Cyber Sled, Area 51, pool and pinball again. That might have been pushing my luck a little too far.
So that was my first experience with being there for a bar's last night, the big closing time.
Now that I think back on the evening, I felt an urge to leave early a few times, despite the good music, just because the passing of the place seemed so sad and shocking, strange and senseless. I don't know if I would have been able to stick the show out without an energizing sense of courage born of another first I'd experienced earlier in the evening.
Oh, get your mind off any scurrilous notions of illicit substances.
Earlier in the evening, it was my pleasure to spend an hour partaking in a special event at the International Grocery shop on the east side of Jenkins Avenue, just a little south of Lindsey Street.
I speak, yes, of a night of skillful bellydance and pounding exotic songs from faraway lands, but also of a night filled with the powerful, invigorating smoke of hookah pipes. I was a little hesitant to give this particular vice a try; I'd heard from friends the aromatic imported "shisha" tobaccos (hope I got that right) smoked in hookah bars "can be pretty intense."
I wasn't going to go in but a sign advertising "Special event -- $12 for bellydancing and a hookah" convinced me to try it.
The mix of people in the place was better than I expected; a few older men, including a few who looked Middle Eastern, were there, as was a fairly broad cross-section of university students, including a few hipsterish shutterbugs. I went to the counter and, after giving my backpack to the lady at the counter for safekeeping (What can I say? It's like a car trunk for us zany pedestrians), I pored over a list of tobacco flavors.
I overheard a girl at one table say "I think it's a grocery store during the week." Given the size of the room, I'd surmise this to be a necessity. For future reference, I noted a few signs near the register advertising various hookah-related accouterments for sale.
Still, my interest in trying this trendy tobacco from another land was more immediate; I wasn't sure I'd last beyond the first inhalation and I didn't exactly have buy-my-own-hookah money anyway.
As for my lungs, they would prove tougher than I'd feared.
As for the tobacco, let me say this: Usually I don't even smoke cigarettes or a regular, Western-style pipe except once in a great while. I don't think I will for quite a while to come, either; on the rare occasion I may have the cash, I'm going to try hookah again.
The pomegranate-flavored stuff I picked was smooth, flavorful and a little like the smoker's version of an organic espresso, if regular tobacco is analogous to office coffee.
An hour later, it was 10 o' clock -- time for the show to start at Liberty D's -- so even though, after an hour of my earnest smoking, there still seemed to be plenty of shisha left in the hookah's bowl, I waved good-bye and made room in the smallish room for a group of what I think were frat boys who'd been standing at the counter impatiently eying my table.
As I left, head buzzing but very alert, and strode north to Campus Corner, the dry February night air seemed far warmer, more soothing and lighter than when I had entered the smoky little shop. Each breath was sharp, sweet and clean. My throat and lungs did not feel heavy, phlegmy or sore as they do sometimes with cigarettes, cigars or pipes. Nor, as it turned out, would they the next day. I know it was not exactly my finest moment from a health standpoint, but the whole experience is something I'll carry with me the rest of my days (even if I may have lopped off one or two of them).
Definitely something to try again, perhaps for my birthday in May, or maybe in honor of the arrival of spring next month.
Next time I'll bring a friend or two, though; I felt bad, hogging a four-person table all by my lonesome.
At the end of the evening, I did give my teeth a thorough brushing before going to bed; how much in the way of nasty morning smoker's mouth this prevented, I can't say for sure. I experienced none, as near as I could tell.
In closing, I must point out one tiny bright spot about the end of Liberty D's I would have found comforting, tobacco buzz or no. Even though the bar is being converted into a restaurant (which I've heard should be a moneymaker and a pleasant enough establishment, especially as it will feature light jazz), the old wooden doors, those, aged, varnished pieces of local history, were nowhere to be seen. I think somewhere, somehow, those two little pieces of the City of Festivals are being put to good use. As a musician I was hanging out with during the iconic bar's final hours said, "They're probably someone's front door."
I hope so.
Adam Scott
366-3533
pop@normantranscript.com