If Lindsey Buckingham isn't a lesbian, then I don't want to live!

The root of the problem

The news was all over the internet, or at least the portion that I inhabit. Lindsey Buckingham, former lead guitarist for Fleetwood Mac was coming to town. Now if you're not old enough to remember, or just not into that kind of thing, I probably need to point out just what an amazing guitarist Buckingham is. Soft easy ballads are something handled extraordinarily well,but screaming fast electric is a specialty. What's especially remarkable is he finger picks when he plays. The closest I  can come in comparison would be Chet Atkins, covering lead, rhythm, and bass simultaneously on one instrument; except Chet never rocked as hard as Lindsey can. When I told her about it, Goose (no mean guitarist herself) was almost beside herself with anticipation.
So it was with Great Expectations that we awaited the advent of the concert.
And of course the day finally arrived, as days inevitably do.
"Goose!" I hollered as evening approached. "Are you wearing comfortable shoes? Remember, Headliners is general admission, no seating. We'll be on our feet all night."
She was in comfortable shoes, and eager to see a real guitar hero in person, she quickly hustled me out the door and into the car.
One of the things I really like about living in Clarksville is how close pretty much all the stuff I want to do is to us. We were at Headliners in 12 literal minutes, and honestly I don't think there is anything in the greater Kentuckiana area that's more than 15 minutes away. But like I was saying, within 12 minutes we were pulling into the vacant lot across from Headliners and handing our three dollar parking fee to the reeking, red-faced old Drunkie who was acting as the lot custodian that night.

Headliners with-out

Across the street was Headliners, a heavy and dilapidated three story brick pile that used to be one of Kentucky's better known bourbon distilleries.
Dodging a few barrelling  pickups, Goose and I  hurried across Frankfort Road and pushed our way through the doors into the building.

Headliners with-in

Headliners was as dark and decayed as ever, really just a big empty brick shell with a stage at one end and a bar at the other. There is a balcony across one side with a rail to lean on and a couple of couches for sitting on, but I never go up there because it looks like just the sort of  thing that leads out of a commercial break with: 'Five killed in balcony collapse, film at eleven'. So I avoid it and just stay downstairs and in close proximity to the bar.
The place was filling fast, so I made my first run for refreshment. Pabst Blue Ribbon in 16 ounce cans was the special, so I got us each one plus a couple of Jager shots for good measure.
While I was waiting for the order to fill, I got a good look at the crowd that was beginning to pack the place. There were a few obligatory Hipsters, but what really stunned me were all the balding heads and sagging boobs crowding me in. I mean honest to God, every aging Boomer in Louisville had put on all their Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters finery and headed out to the show. I haven't seen that many  gray beards, paunches, and  jiggling saddlebags in one place since... Look,  I'm really stretching for a clever metaphor here but I just can't find one. Suffice to say there were lots and lots of late middle aged people there and I was not just a little discomfited to find myself fitting right in. Some day I'll probably (but not necessarily) have to come to terms with with my advancing years, but not now. So I hammered both Jagermeisters to make myself feel a little better about my impending decrepitude, then ordered a couple more to take back to Goose.
The show was starting about that time and after just a couple more trips to the bar I was beginning to feel a little frustrated at the pace of things.
"Goose, Who's this old guy and why's he doing all these Fleetwood Mac covers? When's Lindsey Buckingham coming on"?
Goose's look of astonishment should have clued me into the fact that I was really stepping in it, and if I had just shut-up then, I would have saved myself a lot of embarrassment later.
"Fish," she shouted above the crowd and the music, "what are you going on about now?"
"Buckingham." I shouted back. "When's Lindsey coming on? She's the one we came to see. Not this old guy."
"Fish, did you really inhale too much lead this summer, or have I been living with some kind of crypto-idiot for thirty years now?"
"As I've said before Goose, me brain work good. What's the issue now?"
"The issue is, this 'old guy' is Lindsey Buckingham and 'He' is obviously not a 'She'."
"Goose, that's ridiculous. First off, Lindsey is a woman's name, but more to the point, she was notorious for having a lesbian affair with Stevie Nicks back in the day."
"Yes He did, but obviously it was a heterosexual affair."
"Yeah? Then how could they have been in Fleetwood Mac?"
Goose just starred at me goggle-eyed for a moment. Then she blurted out "What?!?!"
"Just what I said. Fleetwood Mac is probably the most famous Lesbian Tribute band of all time. How could Stevie Nicks have an affair with Lindsey Buckingham if they weren't lesbians?"
"Jesus H. Christ, Fish! What in hell is a Lesbian Tribute band?"
"You know, it's where a bunch of women get together and sing songs that celebrate lesbianism."
 "You really have gone mad! Who do you think all the women in Fleetwood Mac were?"
"Well, there was Michelle Fleetwood and Christine MacVie, and then Lindsey and Stevie."
"Michelle Fleetwood? Fish, try Mick Fleetwood."
"Well everybody knows Mick is the diminutive for Michelle."
"No Fish. Only you know that."
"Well what about all their songs? 'Go Your Own Way' is obviously a lesbian anthem, and I hate to think what 'Big Love' is all about."
"It's all about you becoming an idiot. Ask anyone in here if that's not Lindsey Buckingham on stage."
So I did. And the woman next to me who had been weeping and hugging everyone around her all night looked up at me with teary eyes through what I can only suspect was an Ecstasy induced fog and hissed, "Oh, yessss."
The rather distinguished gentleman next to us nodded in agreement.
Well of course I was dumbfounded, but lately that seems to be the normal run of affairs in my life.
"Oh hell Goose. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Fleetwood Mac really weren't a bunch of lesbians?"
"No Fish"
"Oh this is monstrous. This is unspeakable. You mean to tell me that thirty years of my most salacious fantasies are merely fantasies?"
 "Well, yes. A fantasy is inherently just that; a fantasy."
"God, I'm not sure I can handle this. Thirty years of meaningless, idle fancy. Thirty years of misplaced passions devoted to nothing.  I'm going to the bar and see if I can get a Red Bull and vodka."
"Don't you dare! Those things have been known to kill people!"
"Yeah? Well if Lindsey Buckingham isn't a lesbian then I'm not sure I want to live!"

Well, I never did get my RBV, and it turns out Lindsey Buckingham really isn't a lesbian. But later on I did manage to hustle a Martini out of the Goose.
"You know Goose",  I said a couple of days after the concert. " You can see how i got confused about Fleetwood Mac. They were popular back when I was boycotting television, so I never really got to see them in videos. I never really knew what they looked like."
"So you just assumed they were lesbians?"
"Well it's sort of a natural thing for guys to do. Like what about Scarlett Johannsen and Penelope Cruz?"
"Oh God, don't even start."
"Sure like in 'Vicki Christina Barcelona'. Sort of a combination of strawberries and cream and dulce de leche all in the same bowl."
"Fish, you're letting your imagination run away with you. You're getting all worked up about nothing."
"I don't know Goose, sounds pretty hot to me."
"Then how about a nice martini to cool you off?"
"Mmm....Usually one will kind of get me in a lather."
"Yes, but as soon as you have one you'll want another. And after that you'll just fall asleep and forget about the whole thing."
"True dat, Goose. Bring 'em on."
And so she did and so I did.


Live Long and Prosper,
Fish