January 16, 2011
Several weeks ago a group of us went to this really cool restaurant, Pappy and Harriet’s in Pioneertown http://www.pappyandharriets.com/. We’d seen it highlighted on “No Reservations with Anthony Bordain” and talked about going for months. We were promised great food and some entertainment.
Well, we got both. The food was delicious and the entertainment was even better. The entertainment line up included the “warm up” band, which played while we were eating which made talking nearly impossible, except, oddly enough, when we worried aloud that we would not have a place to sit to watch the next band if we gave up our table, the owner, who just happened to be nearby overheard.
“There’s another reservation for this table.”
Yeah, we knew. We saw the name on the placard under ours, an upscale version of the plastic Carls Jr. placard with a number on it. We also conveniently threw the placard in with the salad plates and bowls which was then whisked away by the bus boy. Unfortunately, the matron of the group promised our table next also had been informed that we were at her soon-to-be table and was hovering leeringly.
“We just want to be sure we can stay for the other bands,” we replied plaintively.
“I want you to stay too!” the owner yelled to us, just to be sure we could hear her, but also maybe to illustrate how furtively she wanted us to stay, how enthusiastic she was about us staying.
“Could you save us those chairs?” hubby asked, always the believer in knock and the door shall be answered.
Then, alas, all the chairs facing the stage had a “Reserved” tag taped to their tops and eventually, after dessert and coffee and avoiding the matron’s stare and glare treatment, we moved there and watched the next band set up. God forbid we stand to listen to a band.
As is usual with our group, we kept leaning toward each other to whisper “How old do you think he is?” Like, when did they start letting 13 year olds drive? When did they start letting 12 year olds get married in America? When did professional athletes start getting drafted out of middle school? Like really, when did we become old?
And that was the thing about this night. It had been a really long time since we had done anything like this, like maybe 15 years ago long. We have tried to age well, recognizing that loud noises only exacerbate our ringing ears, dancing only makes our inflamed knees inflame more, and late nights deepens those dark circles under our eyes. So we have been avoiding these things, late night, dancing and loud noises. Until this night. And suddenly we were transported to being young once again.
The Broken Numbers Band http://www.thebrokennumbersband.com/ did not disappoint. Meanwhile, that silly Amygdala - the brain area tied to emotional responses which fails to register our aging bodies – made us feel young again. The music started and we were all transported to a younger time. I even talked hubby into dancing for the last few songs, though both of us seem to have acquired a new type of rhythm, an arthritic-aspirin requiring rhythm.
And the band was cute, not in the screaming-tearing-your-hair-out type of cute. Remember, I’m old. Cute as in the “Oh, what sweet boys” cute.
So, we left a bit after 10 pm - A late night for us! - got in the car and, on the drive home, discussed the band.
“I wonder if they have Band Moms – like they have Team Moms.”
Yeah, that is what I have been reduced to.
I look at young people and see so much opportunity lying before them that I want to jump in and help organize things. They aren’t even my kids! Actually, my kid would probably welcome the distraction since I have spent the week cajoling him about wasting his life, to which he keeps responding, “I’m on winter break.” Yeah, like that matters.
So, three weeks later, I am still recovering from my big night out. Still wondering when I got so old, when I lost my rhythm, when 10pm became late, and where I can sign up to be Band Mom for those talented, young boys.
This week, I will soak my feet, take some aspirin, and once again listen to my The Broken Numbers Band CD.
