I sit at our home PC typing a blog post or some such nonsense. On one of her nights to put Benjamin to bed, Shannon walks into the guest bathroom to assess his teeth brushing progress. I hear them talking to each other, but can’t make out the words.
Until Shannon gasps and says, “Benjamin!”
She then dashes across the hall into the guest/computer room and covers her mouth to stifle laughter.
How would you like it if a bar full of people knew you and your spouse as “the ’80’s-loving couple?”
It didn’t bother us. And it didn’t bother me that those college guys got my wife drunk, nor that more than one set of strangers’ breasts brushed against my back at random times throughout the evening.
After having pizza with old friends, we strolled down Fayetteville’s Dixon Street, a narrow strip that runs through the heart of downtown and up the hill to the University of Arkansas, and stopped at Willy D’s Dueling Piano Bar. A bulky guy sitting on a stool near the front door took our $5 cover charge — a nominal fee considering what we were about to get.
The show was scheduled for a 9 o’clock start, but at 8:15 we found standing-room only. We meandered to the bar and ordered a beer for Shannon — in a $5 plastic keepsake mug refillable for $1 — and a Captain Morgan and Diet Coke for me. Because, after stuffing yourself with pizza, you gotta make sure you go with Diet Coke in your booze. Wouldn’t want any of that nasty HFCS sneaking down your gullet.
Let’s see. What do we have so far… beer, boobs, and booze? Now that’s a night to remember without what came next.
A dueling piano bar, never the same twice, always is a mix of unequal parts stump the band, sing-along, dance party, and vaudeville, with a generous helping of lewdness.
Standing by the bar, we sipped our drinks as we enjoyed people-watching in an environment that welcomes it. The first thing that struck me was the lack of cigarette smoke. In Fayetteville local laws ban all public buildings, including bars, from allowing smoking. It was, if I may, a breath of fresh air.
The crowd indirectly suggesting that we move away from the bar, we flowed to a spot about five feet from a table full of college guys. The show started and the crowd responded with screams, shrieks, and shouts delivered only the way early twenty-somethings can, blending to form a howling unison.
Until my wife started screaming, that is. Each time she responded with those lungs developed by more than 15 years in choir, those vocal chords trained to go on and on without straining, the musicians and some of the spectators turned to look. At one point, a young woman turned back and yelled, “Was that you? You’re awesome!”
How did she become so uninhibited?
In the show’s first hour, we were forced closer and closer until we were against the table full of college guys, where a large, glass mug full of beer sat at an unoccupied spot. One of the youngsters looked back and noticed that Shannon’s beer was only half full. He held the glass mug high and raised his eyebrows at us. Without hesitation Shannon moved her mug closer while he started to pour.
This happened at least five times after that. I offered the guys money (I had cash!), but they declined. After they introduced themselves and shook our hands, Shannon leaned down and yelled, “Thanks for helping an old lady get drunk!”
They waved her off like she was being ridiculous. Then, I leaned down to hear one of them say, “Hey, man, 50’s the new 40, 40’s the new 30, and 30’s the new 20!” I figured that comment, not to mention their rendering her mug bottomless, was their way of saying that my wife’s hot.
And I was okay with that.
See? Lewdness! (click to, um, enlarge)
There were several songs we didn’t know, but the crowd sang right along. At other times, I marveled at the 21-year-olds’ knowledge of classic rock from the ’70’s. Then there was the obligatory hog call. (the video is Quicktime, right out of Shannon’s Kodak camera — if you don’t want Apple’s software on your computer, then get the Quicktime Alternative to play .mov files)
(14 seconds – only got the end)
I think because it was a college crowd, the musicians weren’t getting blanketed by requests (which usually come with money attached). Shannon ripped a page from her planner and I scribbled our respective (but not respected?) choices. I walked up to the stage and stepped up just long enough to place the note along with a five-dollar bill.
The pianist nearest us read it and laughed as he read it aloud. “He said, ‘Baby Got Back.’ She said, ‘Jesse’s Girl.’” After nodding to his partner across the pianos, he launched into staccatto power chords instantly recognizable as the opening of the Sir Mixalot classic.
After the first verse, however, he didn’t know the words and enlisted the help of one of Shannon’s beer buddies. He nailed it.
(15 seconds)
At about 12:30, an entire table emptied and we grabbed two seats. The musicians practically begging for requests, I wrote down a few and, as the crowd dwindled, shouted more.
Moments after wrapping up “Hit me With Your Best Shot,” the woman singer said, “Some Pat Benatar, for our ’80’s-loving couple over there.”
While I appreciate auto-flush toilets on a sanitary level (although generally I spare myself that problem by flushing with my foot), I hate the stupid things. I get my protective paper layer all nicely laid out, then I straighten up to turn around and sit, and the infernal thing flushes and splashes water all over my beautifully stacked lengths of one-ply. Not to mention nearly deafening me. Then I have to start over, trying to find that perfect posture that won’t trip the auto-flush, and usually end up failing. Should have just hovered, I think. Crap.
Worse than that is the kind I experienced before my last flight out of DFW. I get the paper down and sit, thinking I’m home free. Then, as if on a timer and assuming that surely no human could still be “on board,” the toilet flushes, splashing my parts that, as a rule, get wet only when I’m showering or swimming. I become convinced there is a demented fly buzzing near the sensor’s “eye” to torment me.
I have learned to listen carefully for that telltale sound that the toilet is about to go HAL on me. I raise up, wait out the flush, and then hover while wiping off the seat again. (I must avail myself of this rare opportunity to link a related incident that featured LOTS more water.)
Trying to keep the 18-month old from splashing into the pond and the two pre-schoolers from walking into the black snake’s lair, I flipped open my mobile phone and called up to the house.
I had the wrong lens for the picture I was going to take, and the kids were bound to scare away my already suprisingly bold subject.
“Could you or somebody else please bring my blue camera bag down here? I need something from it, but I’m trying to keep the kids from drowning.” I said.
“Sure,” said my mother-in-law.
A couple minutes went by. I looked at the water. Yep, he was there, still as stones.
Shannon’s cousin arrived with the bags and grabbed up his son. Free to shoot pics at will, I swapped out my wide-angle for my telephoto, lay down on my belly, and rested my camera on a metal post that helped hold up the retaining wall.
I had never been that close before; I was in perfect position.
(click to enlarge — cropped to get subject off center)
My Pic of the Week feature (on Fridays) had lapsed, and this photo seemed appropriate considering the 85-degree temps we’ve had lately. Benjamin absolutely loves water fountains and never passes one without taking a drink.
The Project Green pic I picked (below) is from the same Arboretum outing (where I captured one of my all-time favorite people pics).
This green bench was one of many that intrigued us at Wilson Park in Fayetteville, Arkansas during our trip last week. I tried to do something a little different with the composition by holding my camera high above my head and just shooting until I got something I liked. I couldn’t see the viewfinder at all while snapping the shutter.
I admit I’ve failed to find any new shots featuring green since Anna started her latest project. It’s a tough one. Yellow was much easier to find while out driving.
My comment spam filter recently placed in the moderation queue a comment that was relevant to the post. It had nothing to do with prescription drugs or “enhancement” or how to become independently wealthy (whatever in the world that really means).
The product was so intriguing that I was inspired not only to approve the comment, but I’m writing a post about it. And you’re reading it.
Called the StepNpull, it is a small, glaringly simple device that attaches to the bottom of any latchless door for hands-free opening. It relies on foot power, and was invented by three Alltell Wireless call center staffers in Missouri, where the Springfield Business Journal ran a great April 12 article about their motivation.
Not surprisingly, their reasons were perfectly in line with the concerns that my readers and I expressed in my post “Washing Your Hands.” I wonder if the “Mike” who left the comment there is co-inventor Mike Sewell.
Adding to the relevance is that Alltel happens to be an Arkansas company, and as most of you know, that’s our home state.
As forehead-smackingly “why didn’t I think of that” as it may seem, I wonder about the device’s widespread efficacy. Some doors are a difficult haul, and while the leg motion required seems fairly natural, the muscles used are relatively weak in the average person (I admit this is a guess based on my own miming action, but that’s the glory of opinion pieces!). In addition, some outsoles are nearly perfectly smooth, and would provide little grip on the device’s “lip.”
All that said, I can imagine the StepNpull’s feasability at most public restrooms and on other doors. The $19.99 price tag seems a little steep, but they’re not mass-producing yet, so that could go down substantially.
Now the only thing to watch out for is that boisterous co-worker who loves to burst through doorways whistling “Crazy Train.” Hey, at least I usually nail the Randy Rhoads solo.
I used this pic about a year ago, but I had to include it for my final Project Looking Through post. Anybody else is welcome to join in by scrolling down to the post before this one (or by clicking to go there). Thanks for being a part!
This pic finds us at a local Jump ‘n’ Land, home to oversized inflatable slides and other places for kids to jump and, as luck would have it considering the place’s name, land. Benjamin was playing in the toddlers’ area and I never can resist a chance to lie down on the ground with my camera and give folks some good people-watching fodder.
When your wife’s active in a moms’ club, you end up at birthday parties that mix family members with passing acquaintances. Sure, the moms all know each other fairly well, as do the children, but each dad is just there to support his respective wife and kid(s). Take a few pics, smile-nod-and-shake-hands when introduced, and grab a piece of cake if such is presented. No need to be rude and deny what we all know is the most rewarding part of a birthday party — sweet, rich, buttercream frosting.
We had a good time and I got a decent PLT pic instead of having to delve into my archives. If you haven’t joined the fun of Project Looking Through, then it’s not too late. Just sign up below and/or leave a comment (I removed the Mr. Linky form from the previous posts to save page load time).
Driving through my in-laws’ neighborhood (for a little while longer), I saw the sun lighting up this tree’s red leaves. I was glad that I always have at least my Canon Powershot A560. After I pulled into a side street and parked, I noticed that from the opposite side the tree didn’t look interesting at all. The backlighting made it.
It’s great to see so many joining my Project Looking Through. Framing subjects with objects from the scene always has appealed to me, but I don’t do it often. I think it’s also an exercise in foreground. Often, allowing a little foreground can transform a humdrum photo into something more. It can add depth and give the viewer a better sense of being there.
See more Project Looking Through participants at the bottom of my latest PLT post. Join in if you would like to take part. Have a great weekend!
