Friday, April 20, 2007

A Long Night

Last night I was planning to attend a Bostonian Society lecture and suggested that Jen call some people we get together with occasionally and we'd have dinner afterwards. Lecture....dinner....just the usual, right?


Sure, the lecture part went off fine. "Building Victorian Boston The Architecture of Gridley J. F. Bryant" by Roger Reed. Interesting subject, nice slide show. However, the author was softspoken and due to some surge of what I must assume to be architects....I was in the back row. We all know what a problem that is. The nuns used to put me front and center for a reason. Jen & Roger joined me for the lecture and had pretty much the same opinion.
Then it was off to McCormick & Schmick's to meet Kathy & her brother Bobby (while I have exchanged texts, emails and phone calls, I have never met him). I had a delicious dinner, everyone had a good time, Bobby brought his pics from Iraq and Eqypt...very entertaining evening. Although, it was "No" night for Jen. She wanted the crab cake trio......"No"........Sam Adams....."No"........limoncello........"No" We were the last people still on the second floor when I got a text from SB. I called and explained we were just leaving and soon I'd be home to talk to him. He just had to tell his friend Jen, to give up on the rest of the night so we should go home. I explained that she wanted to go in search of Sam Adams. Simple, right? NO. He tells me that I should take Jen to find her Sam Adams. I hate when they team up against me. They have been rotten the last two days. I keep asking him a question he won't answer and he told Jen the answer. She of course, will not tell me. SB tells me to call and wake him at 0615. I ask if I can call earlier. He says "0600?" being deliberately obtuse. "No" I stomp my foot "When I get home!" "What do you think?" he says in that fabulous sexy voice, "Now, go find my friend Jen a Sam Adams."
Fine! We go to the Purple Shamrock. I have not been inside since it was Bette's Rolls Royce.......29 years ago. I told Jen and said she said "Shut up!". I said "No, I'm serious, we hung out there in 1978, I dated one of the bartenders." The bouncer carded me. I kid you not. I tell him that I am older than his mother. He asks how I know. I show him the ID and he tells me his mother is two years older. I tell him to say hi to her for me. We go inside.... LOUD....... LOUD...... LOUD. I am old, old, old, lol! We dance and have a great time. Two little boys try to pick me up. I explain to each that I am as old as their mothers. For heaven's sake!
There was a music trivia contest and I knew 20 out of 24 answers so several of our group won free beers. I could have gotten more, but he couldn't hear me yelling answers. Never had that happen before! Bobby asks if I'm driving, I say yes. He asks if that's why I'm not drinking, I say yes. He says we have to go out again when I can "get all liquored up and have fun". I tell him I am having fun.
So we had fun until 0130........OMG! My feet! My ears! On the way home I tell Jen that I am calling SB when I get in bed. She tells me not to. She says that if I call him at 0230 I am an ass. Humph! So I don't call.
Fast forward to this morning at 0600. And believe me, it happened very fast. I called SB and told him my tale of the night. He said "0230? I'm so glad you didn't call." Hey!!!!!! He asks if Jen got her Sam Adams. I tell him "No." when Jen & I were limping to our car, she told me that The Purple Shamrock didn't have it and she had to drink Bass Ale. He laments that I failed in the mission.
That's great, just great!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

No Sam Adams at the "Purple Shamrock"? Heresy!
Allowing for some changes in geography, chances are Sam Adams' father's beer controlled the flow when "The Green Dragon" and "The Salutation Tavern" were the sipping posts of their day and Paul Rever's "Mechanics" and the "Sons of Liberty" would convey their messages. The Sam Adams beer that we rail about was his family's brewery. Read "Cradle of Violence", (2006). Great treatment of the personalities of 'grit' that made Boston. (Also, Secret New England; Spies of the American Revolution. One could do a pub crawl all the way out Framingham.)