Day 13: Put Another Dime in the Jukebox Baby

We have stumbled into the quirky little town of London, Ontario along the Thames River. A daily farmer's market, historical monuments and used book stores. Satisfactory, but is there anything fun to do? By some gross oversight, minor-leaguer Sammy Hagar (the Who? Eagles?) was billed as the headliner of a festival sponsored by a classic rock station. Luckily, I opened a paper that gave us the real news. Joan Jett, people. THE Joan Jett, as in my favorite version of Crimson and Clover, ba bum bum bum ba ba. Our mullets weren't long enough to get in, so we sat in the adjacent park and waited patiently through the opening bands, Megan with her Booker Award book and I with my Proust. Finally, the time came to climb a tree to see the crown of her head bopping over the tops of outhouses. Ms. Jett really gives you something to look forward to turning 50. We tried stalking her at her hotel later that night, but only ran into members of the band and the long hair guy from Skid Row.