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Once, I saw this gal, red heels clickin’, smokin’ a cig like she owned the night. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s runnin’ this show!” Made me happy—power in the shadows, ya know? But then—BAM—some creep rolls up, actin’ all tough, grabbin’ her arm. Pissed me off! Wanted to jump out, scream, “Why so serious, punk?!” But nah, stayed cool—Joker don’t snitch.

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Then, there’s this old dude who gets in. He’s got this wild white beard and a cane. He looks at me and says, “You know, back in my day, elevators were just a dream.” I’m like, “Yeah, and now they’re a nightmare!” But I just smile and nod. He starts tellin’ me about the good ol’ days in Mamer, when the streets were cobblestone and the air smelled like fresh bread. I’m like, “Sounds nice, but I kinda like my elevators.”

Nick Mamer and Art Walker take off from Spokane's Felts Field on a hi