And there we were, Toad and I, marveling over the perverted sadness that was the flipper midget.

It was probably 2003 or thereabouts, and the city of Denton outsourced its historic Fry Street Fair, typically held the third weekend of each April, to the city of Dallas and specifically to Deep Ellum.

Sacrilege.

While Toad and I enjoy nothing more than imbibing to the sound of good rock and roll, neither of us has ever been particularly fond of what I fondly call the "explosive diarrhea" music scene, comprised of bands playing as loudly as possible for the sole purpose of making as much noise as possible.

I had pre-advertised Fry Street to him as this collection of eccentricity, part indie, part jazz, the very best of what the University of North Texas has to offer the musical world. My first trip to Denton back in 1996, I saw street musicians -- one by one -- over the course of an hour walk in and out, interchangeably, to form this terrific jazz-slash-dixieland-slash-funk group.

Depending on who walked in and out at the time.

Heck, the first time in Denton was like a seminal experience typically reserved for high schoolers. By that time, I was 26 and already awash in the professional world. But by 2 a.m., I was the object of T-back's affection.

T-back was likely her professional name, if you catch my drift. While I can think of many creative possibilities for that inference, I would only suggest that T-back liked to have a good time and that perhaps, on this early Saturday morning, she had had too much of one.

What had been an ordinary evening in a foreign town for my buddy Brian and I became startlingly interesting when T-back mistook me for her boyfriend. Or perhaps husband. Cohabitant. Study buddy. Her sponsor.

She ran over to my table at a bar called Cool Beans and literally started making out with me on the spot. And if it weren't for the fact that I'm a germaphobe, I might have let her continue. I'm game. But there was also the scene outside Cool Beans only 30 minutes before this when I am pretty sure I saw her expel dinner into a trash can.

Alas, she mentioned an after-party, not so much to invite Brian and me but to make it known to people around her that drinking would continue well into the wee morning hours and that all we'd need to do is bring it.

So, the B boy and I brought it.

We bought a case of white-trash domestic and waltzed into the first house with music blaring, presuming ourselves welcome. Awkwardly enough, we walked in right about the time the police arrived.

The cops were concerned about the noise, which I found odd considering there were multiple homes within the college district in Denton where bands were playing on porches. At 3 a.m. nonetheless.

My concern was that whoever owned this house would think the black and whites were our doing. That's where beer comes into play. We brought it and intended to share it, this act of giving being the primary college-town manuever of friendship.

Turned out the home dwellers were three co-eds, two of which were without boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands or life partners. The third was particularly proud of her boyfriend's genitalia, which she showed off throughout the night, unsolicited.

Hell, I'm not sure if he was even aware of it.

God love Denton.

However, Brian and I managed to strike up a conversation with the two singles, talking them up until 6 a.m. before deciding we really, really, really needed to get back home. I do believe we even got phone numbers, probably the product of us having real-world jobs, which surely made us viable procreative commodities.

But it was the getting of the phone number thing that surely made us both want, make that insist, on returning the next night for the second day of the fair.

That is if we could ever freaking make it home.

From Denton, we ended up in Bedford and then in Fair Park, east of downtown Dallas, and then in the Cotton Bowl parking lot as sunrise hit.

Dude, that's not the place to be at sunrise.

My excuse was that I was completely new to the Dallas area. I'm not sure what his was.

But we made it home to Richardson -- and for those of you who know DFW, you can surely appreciate how circuitous this path was, from Denton to Bedford to downtown Dallas to Richardson. We could have just driven to El Paso, on to San Antonio and back up through Corsicana.

Slumber was pleasant but brief, for me at least. Once the sun's up, I have a hard time trying to initiate anything that could result in eight full hours of sleep. Besides, I was really excited about getting back to Denton, which was always the closest thing to Norman available in the Metroplex.

***

Given that Toad is a happily married man, we didn't prowl for women when Fry Street came to Dallas in 2003. We're much more obnoxious than that; we talked about them as they passed by. Hell, we talked about everybody. Sat atop a joint called The Bone, where I played gigs many a time, people-watching for hours.

Unfortunately, the music just blew chunks. The Dallas version of Fry Street was more awash in pop-metal acts and rock poseurs. Dishwalla was a headliner, and I think Bowling For Soup (a band I do like) was there, so I'm told. I don't actually remember seeing them.

However, the highlight of the entire evening was witnessing a midget who wore flippers lying on his back upon a skateboard. I'm not sure that my long-term memory is that awesome, but I think his M.O. was to skate around looking up women's skirts.

OK, maybe the poor li'l fellow really needed the skateboard to get around. Maybe I'm crass.

Or maybe the flipper midget simply had quite the ruse working.

***

And that brings us to this weekend, the first-ever Norman Music Festival. It runs Saturday-only from noon until 11 p.m., and its headliners include The Polyphonic Spree and a reunited Chainsaw Kittens.

The scene, musically, at least on the main stage seems to be much more indie than what could be found at Fry Street, which I hope means an interesting crowd. Fry Street was always a scene.

However, to the festival's credit, they have blues artists and instrumentalists, including one of my neighbors, the uber-talented Ivan Pena, a gypsy-jazz guitarist.

My schedule on Saturday is such that I might not get to attend but the last six hours or so of the event. However, a few of the bands I'm looking forward to the most include those Chainsaw Kittens, whose place in Norman's rock history is firmly cemented.

According to wikipedia, Tyson Meade also led a band called Defenestration, which means one thing and one thing only to OU alums.

He must have taken a history course with Dr. James Goldsmith.

Defenestration is the act of throwing somebody out of a window, typically an act of political violence. Alas, Goldsmith was fond of it, and while I presume Tyson might merely be a well-read individual, Dr. Goldsmith was super fond about talking about defenestration.

I've already mentioned the Spree in another post, I do believe, so I'll skip onward to a couple of the other interesting bands. There's British Sea Power, which has kind of an Euro-pop sound a la The Cure or any of a number of other 1980s bands.

There's the general weirdness of Austin's own The Octopus Project, an instrumental band whose schtick it is for each bandmember to periodically switch instruments.

Norman's own Evangelicals will be playing as will Norman staple Camille Harp, but perhaps the act I'm most interested in seeing hails from Stillwater.

They're called Colourmusic, the product of a friendship between OSU students several years ago. The group comes with the recommendation of The Flaming Lips, and this group's schtick is to have a different theme for each show.

According to the encyclopedia of our generation, wikipedia, they might have family night, where each band member role plays as a father, mother or child, complete with dress wearing or whatever might be required.

However, of all the bands I listened to on YouTube, it was their music, their style I liked the best. Very intriguing, but given their 3 p.m. start, I'm doubting I'll get to see them.

That's OK. In the long run, for me, it's less about a weelend of great music and more about the scene, anyway.

Heck, maybe the flipper midget will make the trip.