By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
Late last Saturday night, I was headed to the Cavern on Lower Greenville for a late-night smackerel when something caught my eyes. Well, not caught them so much as stung them, badly. My throat began to burn in the weirdest, most unnatural way. As I reached the corner of Eight Lounge--a dance club whose doors are usually closed with utter exclusivity, now swung wide open--I noticed the cluster of policemen on the scene.
"What is this?" I asked a bystander as I retreated to the corner, rubbing my eyes.
"Tear gas," the guy said. "Someone sprayed it in the club."
"Jesus!" said one guy, who had just crossed through a plume unknowingly. "You'd think they'd warn us before we walked through it."
At the time, policemen were otherwise occupied interviewing witnesses. The fumes, however, burned up the block and down my esophagus.
"We did respond to an incident regarding an irritant released underneath a table at the club," says Lieutenant Anthony Williams, speaking for the Dallas Police Department. Williams asked that we not refer to the "irritant" as tear gas, a specific chemical often referred to vaguely, until he knows for certain what it was. All I know is: The stuff burns, and some fool ruined my contour eye shadow.
"The irritant cleared the club, and the fire department was called to assist with any injuries," Williams continued. "Although right now, I don't see any injuries." There should be a criminal investigation eventually, but no assignments have been made. Calls made to Eight Lounge were not returned at press time.
Kids, give us a break already. Leave your tear gas--really, any variety of gaseous irritant--at the door.
Next week we'll unveil the results of our one-week, 20-act live music marathon. (What was I thinking?!?)