On Saturday, after three nights of amazing jazz performances in dimly lit bars, Shaggy Hair Boy, Brooklyn Friend, and I slept late. By the time we’d gotten up and made hot tea, the sun was already glinting off the pavements and red brick buildings. The nearby park was filled with city folks enjoying the warm weather. Kids were feeding the ducks, a herd of teenagers went riding by on bikes, and a young woman sat under an old tree with a book. We found some logs by the water where we could sit in the sun and talk about our plans for Saturday night: a jazz performance by Shaggy Hair Boy’s favorite pianist at a twenty-first century salon.