Everyone knows about the drunk guy at the party who ends up with a lamp shade on his head. My version of the drunk lampshade scenario is the cowboy hat. It’s the last accessory you’ll ever find me donning, unless I’m drunk.

I wore a cowboy hat last Thursday.

McCabe’s American Music Café hosts “Nothing But Rock” every Thursday night.  Now before you say, “Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute. Rock bands don’t play at McCabe’s,” they do.  Every Thursday.  Big belt buckles are replaced by chain belts. Western shirts give way to KGRG shirts.  And my brain cells were replaced with, well, they’re gone forever.

As the bands rocked on the eastside of the giant dance floor, I downed several Concussions — a scary combination of Stoli Vanilla, Stoli Orange, Stoli Raspberry, Stoli Strawberry, orange juice, pineapple, Sprite and cranberry juice.   Seeing the list of ingredients, you might think this drink in a pounder glass would be “yummy in a sweet, kind of girly way” — but it actually tastes like a bunch of booze.

After two Concussions, I felt the urge to dance like a lunatic. In Tacoma, if someone breaks the ice and begins dancing like a lunatic, other people will quickly join in.  The response was not as good as I anticipated. In spite of the wildly funky metal the Crackpot Junkies were cranking out, I was joined only by two women who tentatively rocked back and forth across the room, a bald guy who walked around in circles playing air guitar by the pool tables, and a teenage couple who engaged in some kind of tango/mosh that knocked the young dude’s cowboy hat on the ground.

For close to 30 seconds I sported cowboy hat, until the young dude grabbed it back — not in a sweet, kind of way.

[McCabe’s American Music Café, 2611 Pacific Ave, Tacoma, 253.272.5403]