“Where y’all from,” asked the big bouncer at a nightclub called Stella Blue.
“Chicago,” someone replied.
“Welcome to the middle ground,” he said after checking our IDs at the door.
Upstairs, the club was an ironic polar opposite of its “Dead” namesake.
American-flag-themed Budweisers, a dance floor with bad dance music, a digital disco ball, five public radio employees and a whisky-voiced, bleach-blond bartender with electric-green-tinged contact lenses.