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She can be reached at DC.in.Detroit [at] gmail.com
We love the DIA.
I mean "we" as in the MCB, "we" as in everyone I know, and "we" as me personally. It's one of the things Detroit should be proudest of, and one of the first things I insist anyone coming from out of town set aside some time to experience.
Now, me being at least a part-time night crawler, I get especially excited by all the weekend and nightlife events the DIA puts on. There's something extra-special about dudding up and coming in the back way of one of the country's most celebrated institutions.
This past weekend was even more celebratory than usual, not to mention even more dudded-up, as the DIA threw their black-tie 125th Anniversary Gala Saturday night. Thanks to our awesome relationship with the DIA, MOTORCITYBLOG was invited to hobnob our little hearts out.
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At about 10pm, we rolled up in the MCB Challenger, tossing the keys to one of the eager (seemingly hundreds of) valets. I'm the first to admit, we're not usually the black-tie-scene-types; but as a crew, we clean up pretty well. MCB Mac Daddy Kirk was sharp in tone-on-tone (aka black, black and black), special guest star (and MCB contributor) Karen brought the leopard, and your humble narrator, well, I probably looked like a dork, but why spoil an unbroken record?
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They were stellar.
There are few things that can ruin a big night out quicker than surly, disinterested, unprofessional staff. Everyone working that night -- and there were plenty of them -- was upbeat, helpful and enthusiastic. I don't mean to seem like I'm reporting for the Better Business Bureau here, but the fact is, I had more contact with the people working the event than the people attending. And that's not only because of the 18 glasses of champagne. (Although... mmmm... champagne.) And the food! Table after table of little bite-sized bits of wonder to keep us grazing (and moaning).
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We'll go golfing.
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Back in the MCB-mobile and down into the city. We hit the door right at 1am, which was right about when the Amino Acids were expected to come on. Greeted the Devil right quick (aka Billy Zebubba), grabbed a drink, and wedged my goofy self up front of the crowded floor for the Aminos experience. Even though this was supposed to be their next-to-last show (I'm still in denial), they held nothing back. The Amino Acids are probably my favorite local band, and certainly one of the only bands I can see over and over without their schtick getting old. So yeah, I got up there and lost my shit. And was happy to do so.
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And if you don't know what I'm talking about, what's wrong with you? Whether you do or not, you owe it to yourself to go see the Aminos one last time, next month, before they return to their home planet.
This is what I'd call a perfect Detroit night: Start out with the VIPs, end up with the tattooed girls, devil-horned boys and kickass space aliens trying to hump your leg.