Thing with a hook

February 15 is a day of unexpected encores: opening for the Feelies at the old 9:30, we somehow end up playing one; last year at the new 9:30, Bruce Bennett joins us for “Who Are the Mystery Girls,” an impromptu tribute to the just-departed Shadow Morton.  But our favorite memory of the day occurred in 1991,  on our last tour before James joins the band.  Wilbo Wright is playing bass, and Dave Doernberg is helping out.  We’ve played Atlanta the night before, next stop Einstein A Go-Go in Jacksonville Beach, roughly five hours away.   Our very well-thumbed Real Barbecue book informs us that a mere one-hour detour and we’re breakfasting at Hook’s in Milledgeville, GA.  It’s our first (and to date only) experience at a pull-your-own barbecue place.  We enter the front door, and each of us given a styrofoam container and directions out the back to the pit.  Taking some tongs from the wall, we pull as much meat as we want from the pig on the fire.  Back in the main room, as it were, it’s weighed and garnished with white bread and sauce.   Georgia is first to the cash register.  She orders a drink, and is asked, “Anything else?”  “What else do you have?” she replies.  “Nothing.”