A band came out, a bunch of white guys playing a kind of jazz, I'm not too up on my jazz so don't know the specifics which doesn't matter because it was good music. The band were ridiculously talented and were emphasising this point by really showing off. They way I could describe them would be like the Grateful Dead of jazz, they had these five minute solos and looked as though they were in a jamming session rather than playing a concert. At one point they changed drummers and the new one who came out was out of this world, he has to be the greatest drummer I have ever seen or heard. He could play anything and was making sounds that looked impossible to make by one person. The man playing the organ and keyboard was also out of this world, he would do solos that went on and on but to me they never got boring. This band were really good, its a shame I never got there name. The club pretty much completely shut down as soon as the band had finished leaving us with little or no optimism of an encore. The bald guy had left at some point during the performance, maybe he was tired or too drunk too stand any more. He had left his bike somewhere, outside one of the bars we had gone to earlier in the evening. We left soon after the band had finished playing and the bar had closed back to the hostel. Pull my pork was still open and they offered more delights, not just a pulled pork sandwich. Rowan bought himself an alligator hot dog, I had a bite and it was delicious, so meaty and juicy and full of flavour.