A Touch of Ratatat

Last week was a busy one for me. I would have opted for less work and more kick-my-feet-up time, but sadly that was not the case. We all should seek a balance in those departments, but I'm not your mother or Dr. Phil McGraw. Do as you like.

Between the work, I was able to inject a small, but legitimate dose of relaxation time into my Wednesday evening. The Marquee, 222 N. Main, formerly Mooch and Burn, hosted Ratatat, an instrumental fun house of a band out of New York City. It was my first visit to The Marquee, and the first time I've been to a concert (at a club like The Marquee) that ended by 11pm. I'd typically be displeased with shutting down my evening so early, but not that Wednesday. Sleep was needed.

A little known fact about me: I require eight hours of sleep per night to function, but prefer nine. If you were ever to run into to me on four hours' worth of sleep I'd owe you an apology. At the very least. So, for those of you who have been wronged by me: I am sorry. I should have taken a nap before I told you what you could do with the other end of that, uh, nevermind. Really, I said some crass things. I shouldn't have.

The show was an all-ages one. It's the perfect setting to make someone my age, or five years my junior, feel old.

Shut it down as early as you like, Marquee. You saved me two hours of sleep and, I'm rounding down here, 24 apologies. And, one more thing, I'm not feeling bad about my age. Twenty-eight is the new fourteen and a half, I thought.

Beyond the early shutdown and the kiddos, it was a good night. It was exactly like seeing an event hosted by Speedbump at Soundpony, but without the Speedbump and at a club just south of Soundpony with more space. Wall to wall people. Dancing.

It was difficult to see around the club at times during the performance, because of the faux smoke. I don't really understand fog machines, but I'm sure there is a logical explanation for creating fake smoke in an area where you don't want the real stuff. Right? Although, based on the smell of my clothes afterwards, The Marquee wasn't smoke-free the night of Ratatat, but I have seen it advertised that way in the past.

"Hey, is that our librarian crowd surfing?" Cristi asked me near the end of the evening. I can't imagine it's a terribly common question, but it is worth asking at a Ratatat concert. Librarians are hip. Ratatat is hip. It's a natural match. I later asked my librarian about it, but I'll spare you the details.

Not only that, but the evening was over so abruptly that I didn't have to chance sifting through the robust crowd and risk being kicked in the brow by my very own librarian in an attempt at finding the restroom. It was as perfect as it sounds.

The Busy

So, I went to a musical performance. You're thinking that doesn't sound like a busy week. Or, you're just enjoying Tostitos. It's okay, either way I'm going to shift gears here.

Last weekend, I played a large role in organizing a festival not named the QuikTrip 50th Anniversary Festival, and as a result I don't care to see another table for a long while. I moved many. Like many of the other festival planners and community organizers, please don't slam me, Rudolph Giuliani, I was aware of QuikTrip's competition. Before, during, and after the event.

"You do know QuikTrip's thing is that day, right?" I'd be asked. I'd explain that I was aware, but there was little I could do. "They're having fireworks, too," they'd conclude bubbly.

On Saturday, Sept. 20, the day of WestFest, the community celebration event thrown especially for northwest Tulsans, festival-goers continued the reminder.

"Well, they are having that thing across the river, you know? Are you guys having fireworks?" one would ask. I'd go through a quick rundown of the cost of such a display in my head, but finally talk myself out of saying it. I went with a "no, sorry" instead. I was sorry. Almost everyone loves fireworks.

Once the event was finally here and the tables put out, I was able to sit back and enjoy it all. Neighbors out visiting neighbors. Friends hugging friends. Children jumping, dashing, and hopping--kids being kids.

It was a beautiful day for an outdoor event and exactly what many of us pictured when we envisioned the day. I'm sure those involved with other events--neighborhood block parties around town, QuikTrip, TU's unveiling of the improved stadium, and the Race for the Cure participants--were all as pleased as I was.

For WestFest, much like QuikTrip's 50th hurrah, we booked local talent. Although David Dover and the Ricky Paul Band aren't as widely known internationally as Hanson, they still put on a good show and had Tulsans proud to say, "hey, those guys used to practice in my Dad's house," or, "I remember seeing those guys, like, 10 years ago."

After the day was complete, so many Tulsans went home and threw up their feet, like me. I made some dinner, after a much longer-than-anticipated commute home, thanks to the numerous exit closings on the BA (construction!), and watched the highlights from the fireworks show on the nightly news. People were still out throughout town, but I was glad to be home.

"They had fireworks," I jokingly said to Cristi. She managed a smile. While my event didn't have the explosives of "that QuikTrip thing" it still made me think: this was a good day for Tulsa. I'm okay that it was busy. I'll kick my feet up next week. And, I'll check out the fair.

Please send all comments and column suggestions to ifarley@urbantulsa.com