“How many more do I have of these” I said to myself after taking number 5 off of the machine.
I turn the little television set on to give me some noise. A smart local newscaster announces that the band U2 is in town to start their North American leg of their 360 tour. I listen more than I watch. A flash of Bono and the Edge are seen being shuttled through a concrete canyon to a vehicle, surrounded by a crew of body guards, publicists and whomsoever else knows. A shout about the Olympic bid…I drift off to apron number 6.
I’m not interested, I’ll catch it on video someday I remind myself.
The band returns to the rear recesses of many happy memories. I’ve long ago put out any thoughts of actually getting to see them again. I’m not one to spend so much money anymore. Earlier this year when the tickets went on sale I came to the conclusion that the asking price was just too much. And I certainly wasn’t going to get trapped into a membership just in order to buy tickets. Some four and five letter words were exchanged with my computer monitor at the time and I just let it be. Wasn’t going to happen. What ever happened to the $10 and $25 concerts of yesterday that all you needed to do was call or show up at a box office?
Snippets of a tune sneak their way in and I hum.
..Uno, dos, tres…
Somewhere there is an end to this job I am doing for friends of ours that are getting married the last day in October. Tie Dye and Halloween. Only I could have friends that would wrap this combination together. Apron number 9 and 10 now.
Somewhere the number 17 is finding its way into my day.
Seventeen aprons, a song in my head, an image of a newscast and waking up to my 17th wedding anniversary today. ‘It’s a beautiful day…’
Trying to make a game plan for sweetness on the rest of the day and looking at my watch, I bide my time between the aprons being embroidered. Fidgeting, I call across the hall to the next bedroom we use as an office. “honey…what time do you want to go to the beer festival tasting at Dobby’s?”
“I think it starts somewhere around two o’clock” Jim says to me.
“Okay then…let me check on the times of the movie before we go”. I am starting to think we may not get in a beer tasting, dinner and a movie all in the same night without either a later movie or a later dinner, neither of which I’m never too fond of. Being an early riser that I am, I’m usually falling asleep too easily after a certain hour. I’m probably the only person on earth that would attend a 6:00am theatrical event, if ever there was that option, and be content with a coffee, hot dog and popcorn for breakfast during the show. Sick.
As we leave the house Jim says to grab a jacket because the temperature is supposed to drop a lot tonight. Oh I know he’s right, we could be out and about at the mall, or even the movie theater could have air conditioning capable of blasting us into a deep freeze. Instead a blast of hot air hits us as we open the car door.
“Are you sure about this drop in temperature” I ask seeing that the gauge is nearing 87 degrees.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah.” Jim reassures me. I think no more of it, he’s an Eagle Scout I remind myself. Always prepared. It’s best to just take the advice. Lessons of poison ivy have cured me from ever doubting my better half on matters of nature.
The beer is going down with much delight. I am surrounded mostly by men at a table. A beautiful twenty something in a jersey halter dress and 2 inch black sling-backs is sharing the virtues of hops and water purity. I don’t think the men are actually listening. Her sales are doing quite well I must say though. Her table appears to be one of the busiest. I like the ‘Dogtoberfest’..only for the name. I somehow am able to get my arm, which is holding a sipping cup, into the melee and she graciously pours me a fraction of an ounce. I taste. I wince. Pumpkin and vanilla flavors just have no business in beer and the Oatmeal Stout should have just remained on the truck. I watch the men surround her. Table 5 has the best beer of any I’m sure of it.
I really should make a new career studying social behavior. I’m amused.
“Hey, there’s *Sharon!” Jim points out to me and we both look over the stacked cases to see the top of her head. And for sure that means *Josh is here too. Oh good. This is going to be fun and now I know at least another female here.
With much of the sampling already tasted and now Josh and Sharon sharing pleasant conversation with us (we are still hovering near table 5 btw…not sure…but I just know the flawless skin on the backless dress has something to do with it. I don’t mind. She is beautiful).
I don’t know who asked who for what and how I ended up sharing that it was our 17th wedding anniversary and we were just planning to spend the day together doing whatever, it wasn’t long before Jim asked if it would be okay if we got something quick to eat and then try and make the earlier show.
I shared with him my concern also that I didn’t think we’d have time to do both. For some reason I was just taking this day as it came. It just didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to spend time with Jim. Whatever was just cool with me. We can eat at Vittorio’s any other day…their butternut squash ravioli will still be there. No worries babe.
“Well, what I mean is…” Jim reaches into his shirt pocket and hands me a ticket. I look at the Ticketmaster Logo and think “Oh how sweet we are going to see a play”. I look.
I look again.
“C’mon. You’re kidding me. How…how..” I can’t get the words out. I’m in a state of slight euphoria. Pinch me. Can this be real? Is my husband standing near table 5 handing me tickets to go see a concert for a band I’d long ago resigned to the fact that I’d just never be able to see live again? Is this real?
“Get on your boots…baby..we are going to town!”
I look over and Sharon is taking a picture of my stunned amazement. What a great surprise. I need to go buy a lottery ticket. The luck of Irish has kissed it’s way into my little corner of the world.
The show was great.
As the night winds down I promise to rejuvenate my 22 year old 4 x 6 foot poster of a silhouetted Larry Mullen Jr and hang it somewhere in my house. I’ll subtitle it ‘Table No. 5’
…*knowing the internet, some names have been changed to protect the innocent…
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