Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way you plan. For a month now, my friend Marie and I have been talking about how we were going to “walk on the wild side” this past weekend.
We had made plans to go to a local bar/restaurant called Mugshots on Friday to hear a band which happened to feature one of her professors. She’s in the final stretch of earning her masters degree. Showing up to hear her prof couldn’t hurt.
We’d also volunteered to work the Johnny Cash Flower Pickin’ Festival which was held in my city. Cash was incarcerated for picking flowers in someone’s yard 43 years ago which offered a great opportunity for a big party during which two of Cash’s daughters performed.
It was also an excuse for all kinds of wild fun including a concert at a local night club which caters to the college crowd. Admittedly, this is a group way wilder than we had rubbed shoulders with in the past 20 years – okay, shut up, maybe it’s been 40, I’m not sure.
We discussed what we would wear. We settled on jeans in order to blend in with the crowd. We didn’t want to look like two ole biddies out checking up on our grandchildren. The lights would be low and we, well at least she, was still in pretty good shape. We could probably pull it off and have a great time – brag about it the next time our girl friends get together.
We were pumped. A friend of ours from Columbus was coming over to join us, and our little trio was ready to make history. We could envision all the college boys asking us to dance – we would jump up on the bar and bring back the Watusi. All the college girls would wish they had our raw finesse, our joie de vivre, our confident maturity. At last, we would give the moniker “seniors” a new image.
But wait. Our plans hit a snag before they got in second gear. Marie called on Friday morning, practically in tears.
“Emily, the band doesn’t begin playing at Mugshots until 10:30,” she whined.
“Do you mean in the evening?” I guess hoping it was 10:30 a.m. was out of the question.
We weighed our options.
“Maybe we could go to bed at 5 p.m. and set the alarm for 10?” I asked hopefully.
She groaned. No way was this going to happen.
“Hey, you know what? I’m feeling a little dizzy,” I declared. I really was, sort of. “Why don’t you and Judy go, and tell me about it.
“I was thinking how nice it would be to cut down the AC and put a fire in the fireplace – play a little patty cake with Lucky Dawg and Rebel.
Besides, I still have to read Jack London’s “Call of the Wild” for my community’s city wide book club. That will be wild enough for now.