Field Notes 1

It was a rather warm morning for being so early, so early in fact that I’m not usually one to see such an early part of the day. Looking up in the clear sky without a cloud in a sight and feeling nothing but the hot sun beating down on my face made me think of the extremely hot days that have yet to come.

As I walked into the restaurant I felt a cold gust of air come over me as I opened the door, at first I actually thought it felt quite refreshing, but after a minute or so sitting at my booth I began to feel cold. After getting myself situated and placing my order I heard the woman that came in slightly after I did that was seated directly in front of me mention that it was cold inside, and upon her making that comment I looked up at her and noticed that on the back of her neck she had a small tattoo of the playboy bunny, we’ll call her Curly. Curly had a little boy (I'm assuming her son), we’ll call him Bomber as he did have an angry birds hat with the bird that explodes on it, he was about 3-4 years of age. Bomber had extremely long for a male, it seemed as though it was even longer than his mother’s (curly) hair. Bomber would not sit still and kept standing on top of the booth looking back at me on a consistent basis, most likely the typical behavior for a child of his age. Curly seemed extremely “picky” as she placed her order with many rather annoying specifications. As the two finished up their meal and headed out, more and more people began to trickle in.

With Curly and Bomber gone I could more clearly hear the annoying sound of older country music in the background.

The sound of a foreign language caught my ear and drew my attention to an Asian family. Tourists I assume as they were all wearing out-of-state college t-shirts and were dresses as if they are prepared to sit in a car for multiple hours. Two younger boys, about 5-7 years of age and an older woman and an older man, I assuming the mother and father of the two young boys. They were rather quiet and stayed to themselves as they patiently awaited their order which was taking extremely long to come out. I noticed that at first one of the young boys decided that they needed the bathroom, so the father got up to take him. Then shortly after the father and son returned to the table the other young boy decided that they also needed the bathroom, so the mother gets up and takes him. I find it unusual as to how siblings seem to want or do the exact same thing as their brothers or sisters, I’m guessing that that is just the role of the older sibling taking on the role of being a role-model. Overall, the family seemed average as they finally received their long-awaited order and began to eat.

As some people leave and new customers arrive, I noticed that all the older customers, which seem to be above the age of 40 have ordered coffee. Also, I have noticed that the older country music has stopped playing and has instead turned into more modern country music. The air conditioner has again kicked-on and it is getting to be an uncomfortably cold environment.

Most of the customers that have shown up are in pairs aside from the few families that have children, and all the pairs of customers at tables are male and female. These male and female pairs all seem to be spouses to one-another and engaged in what seems to be small talk as neither of them seem to be deeply engaged in conversation.

A lesbian couple have entered and are sat at a booth. One of them seems to have more a masculine and serious appearance as the other appears to be more feminine. The more masculine woman (we’ll call her Sergeant) has a haircut to that of what could be considered a male hair style. Sergeant is also wearing baggy pants and a white collard polo shirt. What gives her her serious look is more within the tough looking sunglasses that she has on. Sergeant, specifically, seems to draw the most attention from people. Especially the attention from one couple that seem to be staring. I find it oddly enough that the lesbian couple have two boys, both about 3 years of age. They seem rather well behaved as they both keep to themselves and interact amongst each other.

DNA TATTOO SHOP

Tattoo machines buzzing, magazine pages flipping, music from the 80's playing and people chatting. This girl dressed in a pin up dress greets you and asks who you're here to see, if you still haven't made up your mind on what you're looking for yet she hands you two giant binders filled with artwork from their tattoo artist.

As I sit in this couch I can hear this teen girl complaining to her mother about wanting a belly ring but her mother explaining to her about her being too young. The teen then starts pouting and demanding to her mother that she wants it now and that she had promised. Their argument went on for forever until the mother finally decided to set her ground and discipline the daughter as they walked out.

As I'm sitting there glancing through the artwork this couple walks in, the girl then explains to the clerk on how they want small star wars matching tattoo's, both of them want a light saver on their index finger to symbolize their love. The girl refers them over to Scott Walker.
This guy filled with tattoo's all over his arms, legs and even his arms walks over to the couple. He tells them that he has some free time on his hands and he'd be more than glad to tattoo the light sabers on them. You can tell that the girl starts freaking out. She tells him it's her first tattoo and she tells him how terrified of needles she is.

The guy gets his done first and he tells his girlfriend, "see, it's nothing big, you won't feel a thing" the girl still terrified asks Scott Walker "I guess it's my turn right? If I pass out will you promise to not make fun of me?" The tattoo artist comforts her and tells her " Don't worry, you'll be fine! I take care of my clients." The buzzing begins and I can see her shivering. As the tattoo artist begins to tattoo her she smiles and then giggles. She then tells the guys "Oh my god, I am such a girl! This doesn't hurt at all, if anything it tickles!"

The pin up girl then comes up to me and asks if I have made up my mind. I show her a picture of what I would like done. She smiles and tells me "that's a piece of artwork you got there, how does Saturday at 7 sound to you?" I tell her "perfect timing, see you then."

Punk O'clock

It is a late summer evening and hot as ever. Excited, I drive over the bumpy rode covered in pot wholes and park next to a crowd of what seems to be the delinquents of Las Cruces. I arrive to the sketchy environment. It's a Friday night and it seems as though everyone could not be any happier to get the weekend started. I'm approaching the entrance, but first I must make my way through the maze of smoke, D-beat conversation, and trail of alcoholic beverages. It's as if it was my initiation into the building. Suddenly, I'm standing in the doorway of the foyer. As I wait for the crowd to migrate its way further into the building, the smell of beer grows stronger and sound of thrashy music gets louder. I glance at the walls around me, seeing the various posters covering every inch of space overlapping one another, I am certainly in the city's most underground punk venues.

The "doorwatcher", as I overhear them be named, marks my hand with an "x" at the entrance and I continue further into the venue. Making my way out of the foyer and into the second room, I walk over to the opposite side and wait patiently for the show to begin. It is still very loud and I observe different band members communicating with one another to either load equipment or set up. Off in the distance, the shows promoter, Nick, is negotiating how to divide up the donations among the bands, as well as save a small stipend for the broken toilet in the venue. I assume that although the environment does not seem business savvy, this is definitely the business side of running a venue. The rooms is slowly but surely getting more and more packed with friends of both locals and touring bands. We are all condensed into one room just moments from show time.

The lights turn down low and the thrashy music stops. The abrupt and very loud sound of a snare drum takes place of the music while the bassist and guitarist tune for their set. I observe that as the band tunes louder and louder it triggers more people from outside the venue to come in. Just when I thought that the space could not get any more congested, more supporters make their way into the venue. Things get real, and the entire room begins to perspire. I am on the verge of tears when I realize I can no longer see, but James, a kind man watching the PA , makes room for me and relief washes over in an amazing wave.

The band starts and passionate supporters begin shoving one another around. I descend further behind the crowd of people to avoid injury. As I take my place in the back, I notice that most of the female supporters stand in the back and like me, avoid getting hurt. It is the males of the venue that seem the most physically passionate about this genre of music and express it through movement and a specific form of dancing. Yes, dancing. The wave of people pushes me into a beat up piece of furniture in the back. I find it is sturdy enough to stand on so I do. I now see an ocean of supporters blending with the musicians playing up front and yelling every lyric they know with the vocalist.

Still divided as male and female, I managed to find unity through out the entire venue. No matter where one chose to stand, dance, or yell, it seemed that every person was there for the same reasons.

It's the last song of the bands set. The applause from the crowd justifies how proud and happy they are to support some of their closest friends as musicians. I can see the exhaustion in each persons face as the overwhelming amount of heat and noise drains them. The bands set ends and people start trickling outside for some fresh Southern New Mexican evening desert air. The venue is emptier than before, but the aftermath has Punk O'clock written all over it.