After a long, tiring Thanksgiving Day, Stephanie and I decided to wrap up the holiday with some good old fashioned girl bonding. She and I ventured out into the damp evening air in search of an open bar. Surely there are enough people in need of alcohol after spending the day with their families that there would be an open establishment. On our second try, we found Ernie’s (a regular spot for us) to be open. Hooray!
We walked in to the karaoke side of things, where it was a’hoppin’ and sat near the bathrooms as it was not quite so loud. We caught up on the ‘this and that’s’ of Thanksgiving and the drama that finds its way into family gatherings. Then, from the speakers played the first few bars of Meatloaf’s I Would Do Anything For Love and my face must have really lit up when I told Steph that I used to play this cassette over and over in the 5th grade, because she suggested we go watch. I couldn’t have imagined anything better.
We found a booth across from the bar and with a fairly good line of sight to those singing and sat down. Resolved, now, to sipping our presses and people watching (it was too loud to talk really), Steph and I had no idea the adventures that would ensue within the next couple of hours. A string of people would stop by to chat or even sit down. Here are our interactions with them.
First to stop by and say hello was Drunk Man #1. He asked where our blonde friend went, to which we looked confused and told him that we did not have a blonde friend with us. He argued and said that she was just here and that he bought her this beer. He held up a Michelob Ultra. We explained that she probably just left. He then launched in to the tale of his buddies that evening who had been kicked out of the bar to which I nodded and smiled. He offered me the beer, but I declined stating that I was not drinking (I think I had a drink in front of me when I made the statement – ha!). Besides, I don’t drink beers that aren’t opened or poured in front of me!
Next to join us was Pat G. I know his first name and last initial because he filled out his song card on my table. He approached us in his camel colored sport coat with his salt and pepper hair and asked if he could use the song book on the table. Of course he could. Then he asked me to help him choose a song. I smiled politely and explained that I was really a terrible singer and could not possibly…. Just help me pick out a song, he said with a smile. No really, I could not possibly… No really! I can’t see the print. Can you please find I’ve Got You Under My Skin by Frank Sinatra? Oh! I said. Sure! We laughed. I flipped to the page and read off the numbers to Pat. Then he asked for New York New York, too. I read off the numbers and watched intently as he wrote them down. Throughout this whole exchange, we were yelling into each other’s ears. Pat G. yelled a thank you with a nod and headed to the DJ to turn in his requests.
As Stepha and I take a holdy-outtie photo, a nice young man snatched the camera and offered to take a respectable photo. We posed. He snapped. He said one more. We posed again. He sat down at the booth and told us how he found out that day that his girlfriend was cheating on him. Stephanie and I made our sad faces and said that we were sorry for his luck. He explained that he’s done much worse so he probably deserved it, but also told us they were living together and he did not know what he was going to do. At this point, my brain alerted me that this could be a line… He sat and chatted about his woes and we listened politely. He thanked us for listening we thanked him for taking our picture and just like that he went back next door.
Then, there was Darren, who Steph and I thought was actually Aaron from when the announcer said his name. He had spikey blonde hair and was wearing jeans with a t-shirt and suit jacket. He was a great singer and we had commented earlier in the evening that we liked him. Well, I was smiling and happened to glance in his direction. He was dancing at the side of the “dance floor” and he walked over smiling back. “Now THAT is a smile I can’t refuse!” he said. “What’s your name?” I told him my name and Steph, hers. After introductions he sat down. I wished him a happy a thanksgiving and he said, “You too, Tory.” [Nice name usage, Daren!] Then he turned back to watch the person singing. He smiled and nodded and got up and went back to his table of friends.
Throughout the evening, there was a woman, Katie (we later learned her name when she sang a terrible version of My Happy Ending by Avril Lavigne) who kept giving us the death stare all night. We aren’t really sure, even now, what we did to deserve such awful looks. I was about to ask her what the crap her problem was, but was interrupted by this blonde woman.
Now, the fifth person to sit down at our booth, this blonde woman looked like she was from the Real Housewives of Orange County. Her long curly hair and well put-together outfit and perfect makeup were really beautiful. She was probably in her early 40s and we had seen her with Darren earlier in the evening. They were a cute pair together. So, she sits down next to Stephanie and asked us if we’ve ever been to First Fridays. I didn’t hear her, so I asked her to repeat herself. “Have you ever been to First Fridays?” she said again, a little frustrated. “You know the art walk in Phoenix?” Finally, able to hear her, Stephanie and I responded that we indeed had been there. She then explained that we’d probably find men there. The look on my face must have been one of insult because she shrugged as if to say, “I’m just calling it like I see it.” She then said, “First Fridays just seems like a good place for ‘your kind.’” I kid you not. She said, “Your kind.”
Now, truly offended the look on my face could not have been a nice one. Then she told Stephanie she would have many children, but that I would only have two. My confused face got more confused. How did she know this? I asked if she was psychic and she said no. [This must mean that you’re crazy, then!] But what she was about to say, would stick with me. “You,” she said, pointing. “You don’t like to make mistakes.” Her face smirked when she said this. I was offended at her overt declaration, but she was right, so I couldn’t really be mad. I shook my head in disbelief and Steph sat unable to really hear this crazy woman’s rants. Where was she getting this crap?
“You also need a man to beat your ass!” Horror overcame my face. “I don’t mean physically,” she explained. “You need a man who, every subject you’ve ever studied, everything you’re interested in, he can one-up you. You need that challenge.” Again, point goes to Crazy. She was right. But she was not psychic. Her next statement was even stranger. She said to me, “You push men away.” My shoulders drop in sadness. This was a sad prediction of my general behavior. She then corrected herself, “No. You need to push men away. It keeps it interesting.” She smiles, like she’d now given me advice rather than prophesied my past, present and future.
Then, still speaking to me, she said, “This one,” pointing at Stephanie. “She’s a bitch with a good soul.” “What?!” I said again with a confused look. I was done talking to her at that point, but she repeated herself saying Stephanie will have 4 to 5 ‘blessings’ but I will only have 2. Blessings I guessed were children. Who knows! “Are you a hater?” she asked me. All of a sudden, I became aware of the strangeness of this whole interaction. She got up and left. Thank goodness.
Since Stephanie couldn’t hear most of that awfulness, I recapped the conversation to her, shouting over the loud music. We had decided to leave when Darren approached to bid us good night. He grabbed my hand and kissed it. I burst out laughing as soon as he walked away. “What?” Stephanie asked. “I was just picking at my foot with that hand and he kissed it!” Hahahahhaha! We both burst out laughing.
And that was our strange Thanksgiving night.
