PixelVixen707

(Photo by Vincent Diamante)

So I’m feeling pretty dumb right now. Not because I didn’t solve the Chicago problem on my own - I knew I’d need a posse for that one, and you guys did not disappoint. In fact, let’s settle that first: the golden trophy goes to Turbofool, aka Jarrett Kaufman. (Read the solution here.)

What’s my problem? Well, look at the interviews we did with the band. I went in cocky. I figured my dad, who likes to spin Gilbert & Sullivan or, if it’s Saturday night, Red Sovine, would actually be a little off his game faced with a washed-up punk musician. Perched on my stack of punk zines, I figured I had this one under control.

But my interviews, frankly, sucked. I let the guys wander. I didn’t get the right follow-ups. And I blew off Fuck completely, even though of the three of them, he wound up having the most accurate memory of what happened that weekend back in ‘94. I missed a major clue when Fuck told me that the van was empty the first full day they were in town. Yes, it was a lot to follow, and we all make mistakes. But I practically could have solved it right there.

Look how incisive, how precise and how thorough my dad is, compared to me. I thought I had this one, but once again, he makes me feel like a fumbling amateur.

I checked with dad on the phone today. He’s already gotten in touch with the Empty Bottle, and after a few calls he found someone who remembered someone who used to service their coin-ops. The name is Duane Webb Holden, and he bought the machine from the Empty Bottle around ‘95 or ‘96. He either has it, or has sold it.

After doing all the heavy lifting, my dad handed over his number and suggested I give him a call. I’ll try to reach him Monday, so expect to hear more soon - unless I screw this up too.

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