Poetry

As you may recall, I was all relieved a couple of weeks ago to have chosen a bar for my last Bon Voyage party. And I was so sure of it that it didn't really bother me at first when they weren't answering their phone. It was a fairly new place, so it's not like they were all that busy; we could probably just show up if it came to that.

By Wednesday, though, I was getting testy. I mean, the place hasn't even made it onto citysearch yet; and if they print up cards with a phone number that they don't answer, they never will, right? Right?

So I swung by. The first of the two giant notices on the door was a general restraining order preventing anyone from removing anything from the property. The second announced that the place had been shut down for endangering the health and safety of a large number of people.

Cool.

I decided to go back to basics--I've been so concerned with putting together all of the pieces that I've been ignoring my favorite bar just because it's, well, tiny. I did call them, expecting to hear that they didn't do groups, and to be mocked a smidge just for asking. I was prepared for mocking; I was not prepared for the friendly manager to say, "Sure, we'll put reserved signs on a couple of the back tables." Especially since he then hung up without taking my name.

I mean--I know they don't do that, so he was obviously lying, but he did it so nicely that I didn't feel mocked. I didn't feel blown off enough to justify going somewhere else, is what I'm saying. And he did say that the crowd would be thin around 9:00, so....

We basically took over the back of the place, starting with one tiny table and expanding like one of those sponges that turn into dinosaurs.

It was wonderful--if you were there, thank you so much! I felt like an ADD kid for most of it; I spent the first hour or so without ever getting to finish a single conversation. People I haven't seen in years, people I'd just met, and Andrea bearing a red velvet cake from Buttercup Bakery, some of which ended up in Mary's hair (for symmetry) made it an amazing night. Actually, the cake got everywhere, but yes, Andrea, I did bring the last slice back with me. I called it "breakfast."

As a bonus, my team won both games of pool we played--one lamely, when Elena scratched on the eight-ball, but a later one for real, when I sank this incredibly elegant winning shot that no one actually saw.

It was really a nice way to go out. I highly recommend it. I also strongly suggest that everyone pester Mary about the appropriately-sideburned guy I left her with at the table. You know--after I got the icing out of her hair.