tuesday at the terminal

a quiet nite @ the terminal. established way back in 1932, the sign at the door says. javier trejo and his 2 piece band play some lazy jazz as i walk in to find the joint empty. there four people sitting at the bar and three on the stage. and one guy running sound. again, its a quiet night. but hten again its only about a quarter to 11, maybe itll pick up.

the old timer @ the door informs me its a $3 cover charge sheepishly, as if he expects me to turn and walk out, like i almost did the 1st time i stopped by the terminal on a tuesday night. $3 aint bad when jav is onstage tho. the guy can pick that guitar, and his stand up bassist & drummer back him perfectly.

familar riffs float from his guitar. quick latin rythms that u swear u'v heard a thousand times but u couldnt say where. a lonely dancer takes to her feet, swaying effortlessly to the grooves and letting her arms glide as the tunes intensify. she dont care that noone else is dancing, man, she came to feel the music and thats what shes gonna do. i doubt if shed even notice if the dancefloor was packed, so in her own world is she.her feet begin to shuffle as the guitar quickens. the drummer is suddenly pounding as jav lets loose on his strings. the bass is being plucked furiously to keep pace.

and and it nears midnight, the place finds itself actually kinda full. when the second set begins there is a decnt crowd to watch the band play. i guess its just a late night crowd.