And thus the wonders of the Internet: I just Googled the show when I thought of it, and behold! The Primitives opened for the Sugarcubes in Chicago on 1 March 1990. Maybe I'll look up their music.
The other great story of the night was driving back to DeKalb. Angie had me driving her car for some reason, and we stopped at a toll booth on I-88, probably the one just past I-294. One quarter in the change I tossed into the basket bounced off into oblivion, but not before I lifted my foot off the break and pulled away from the basket and closer to the automatic arm of the gate. I tried to toss a coin awkwardly backwards to no avail. Conscious of the cars behind, I now just grabbed a bunch of change and pushed it back at John, who was sitting behind me. He rolled down his window, but was unable to easily reach the basket, so he opened his door a bit. The gate went up and I pulled away from the tool booth.
Instantly the girls began shouting, "John fell out of the car! You left John behind!"
"Yeah, right..." I laughed.
"No! No! JOHN FELL OUT OF THE CAR!!!" they screamed. I looked in the rear-view mirror and could see a silhouetted figure loping behind the car. Mortified, I hit the breaks. John had apparently not just opened his door to pay the toll, but had put one foot outside the car and was leaning on that when I pulled forward, causing him to tumble to the ground.
"What are you doing?!!" cried John as he jumped in the car, slamming the door shut. I pulled off more quickly, now conscious of drivers behind me who thought I was crazy (to say nothing of my companions). I apologized to John, saying I had no idea he'd gotten even a little out of the car. But in my mind's eye I can still see him loping along behind the car, silhouetted by the beams of the lines of cars behind me.