If Hell Were Custom Fit

Last Friday was a long, long day. Gavin didn't sleep well the night before because he's teething therefore I didn't sleep well the night before. The following day was a wee bit of a grump fest although Ryan and I were very gracious to each other as it was Valentine's Day. I think Valentine's Day saved us from potentially nasty behavior.


Ryan bought me a goodie basket - frozen yogurt, a box of candy conversation hearts and a bag of baked Sour Cream & Ruffles chips (which make an excellent appetizer to breakfast, by the way) and daffodils. My gift to Ryan was our date later in the evening. I was so excited about our date that I couldn't even nap! I snuck off to our bedroom to call the club we were going to, Highway 99 Blues Club, to see what time we had to be there before the show started. The hostess told me that since the show started at 8:00 we had to be at our table by 7:30. No problem. I called the sitter and asked if she could come over a half hour earlier than we originally scheduled.

Little Gavin was set, asleep in his crib; as far as he knew we never left the house. Ryan gave the sitter a tour of the pantry and I gave her the contact information of where we would be. Then with 15 minutes to spare I told Ryan we needed to leave so we could be on time. We are quite often tardy to events which drives me nuts but we had to be on time tonight so I hustled us out the door.

Driving under the viaduct (highway 99), I spotted the sign to the venue and even sweeter than finding the venue of the first try was seeing a man unlock his car front and center. "Stop! That guy is leaving!" We scored a free parking spot directly in front of the club. On a Saturday night. On a big date holiday Saturday night. We were thrilled.


Ryan seemed pretty excited about the joint. Food and good music coupled with my unbeatable company - what more could he want?


When we were seated I saw a band member fiddling with some equipment on stage and I had a feeling something was a bit off. It was the way his short hair was slicked back; the thin strip of facial hair cutting across his face on either side, his tight red shirt with white piping. He looked a bit 50's and a bit country. I kept my observations to myself.


The waitress quickly took our drink orders then after about a half hour or longer she took our food order. We were very naughty and ordered an appetizer of chicken sliders. Yum. Well, 45 minutes later, yum. That place was hoppin'. It was at least an hour from the time we ordered our food until it came. I had a rockfish that was super rich and Ryan had a chicken gumbo which I was surprised he liked because I think it had okra in it.

If you do the math you will notice we arrived at 7:30, our order was taken around 8:00 and food arrived around 9:00. All the while we are enjoying each other's company and surprisingly our conversation did not all revolve around Gavin. That was a good sign.


When our harried waitress zipped by we asked when the show was going to start. Any minute now. Sure. At one point we considered leaving and doing something else but I thought, what are we going to do? We don't know the happening joints in Seattle and we just ate dinner so we stayed and waited. And waited and waited some more.


Finally, 2 hours after the show was supposed to start this dude carrying a big case walks to the stage and I see the red shirt band member shake his hand as he gets his instrument ready. I believe the bass player was the reason the show was late. Mr. Bassman, you sir are a hoser. It didn't seem like anyone else minded that the show was so late. There was a good music playing, everyone was enjoying their dates and people we taking dancing lessons on the dance floor.


Then the red shirt with piping dude steps up to the mike. He's the singer and he's flanked by a young looking kid on the right wearing a black shirt and black beret with a guitar hanging at his waist. To the left of the singer was the hoser of a bass player with his super cool shiny bass, also wearing a black beret.

Then the music started. My eyes widened. Nooooo!!!!! I slowly turned my head to the left to sneak a peak at Ryan; I mouth "sorry" to him. The band was a rockabilly band. If you don't know rockabilly think country music on crack. Ryan said he could have sang, "Go Johnny, Go!" to everyone one of their songs.

If you know Ryan then you know he doesn't like country music. To say he doesn't like it would be the understatement of the year. He despises country music. Sure, he likes, "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks but who doesn't? Country music is to Ryan like cryptonite is to Superman.

We were at his mom's house celebrating the birthday of one of her husband's relatives - a relative who liked country music. So to honor him Mary Jo put country on the stereo. Ryan asked his mom to change it. She wouldn't - it was for the birthday boy.


I used his aversion to country to my advantage once. I was sitting on the couch watching some tv show when Ryan plopped down next to me with a bag of carrots. Crunchy, crunchy carrots which he proceeded to eat. There is one little quirk that Ryan and I share. We both hate to listen to other people eat crunchy foods. While he hates to listen to the crunch I go above and beyond and do not want to hear any part of the mastication process whatsoever. No lip smacking, teeth scraping of utensils, no chomping, crunching, slurping - nothing. To force me in the vicinity of a noisy eater is to place one's own bodily health in danger. It pushes me to a homicidal point that I don't like being pushed to.


So... there I was sitting - not antagonizing anyone and my beloved sits next to me and goes to town on some carrots. He was enjoying making the crunching as loud as he could as he made sure to not muffle any sound by keeping his lips apart and leaning closer to me. Now, he would normally win this battle because I would just run from the room with my hands over my ears screaming at the top of my lungs. But no. I wasn't going to budge. I had the remote and I had just discovered the music channels on the tv. I pulled up the menu and selected a county station. "No. That's too rock 'n roll.... how's about this one," I said as I found the old school country where there was sure to be some pronounced twang.


Ryan sat there and smiled. Soon his smile looked forced and I think I may have seen a tear in his eye. He didn't even last a minute. "You win! You win! Just turn the station! Please!"


HA! I won. I never win!


Now do you have an idea of how Ryan feels about country? He looked at me as if to say, "really?" I pointed at the huge sign behind the band that said, "real blues. cool joint."

How was I to know I bought tickets to a rockabilly concert at a blues club? I was expecting something along the lines of BB King not Scott Marshall Warner. I enjoyed the music but knowing that I was killing Ryan's spirit I told him we could leave. It must have been the two beers because he decided it would be ok to stay. I have to admit that after a while the music did sound the same.


After they played there was a burlesque show which was a little different from what I thought a burlesque show was. I thought the women did their little old fashioned Betty Boop dancing and ended up in a bikini. Not so much. It was pretty comical, though. The women came to the stage and danced what I'm sure was a provocative number in WWII but seemed cartoonish to me. When the dancer got down to the frilly underwear she would take her top off to reveal pasty covered boobs at which point she would quickly bow, scoop up her clothes and dash off stage. It kind of reminded me of a peep show at the "museum" in Longview where Jake the Alligator man lives. You put a nickel in the machine and a silent film plays. There is a woman who acts coy in her underwear (think big white petticoat), she takes her arms out of her petticoat (va-va-voom) and cut - next scene you see a pile of underwear next to tub with the woman in the tub with just her head above the water. Hilarious. I think I called my mom over to watch the show I thought it was so funny.

We left after the burlesque girls finished their number. It was getting late and the band following Scott Marshall Warner was another rockabilly band.

At least Ryan appreciated the effort I made to get a sitter and find something and make reservations. Too bad I took him to his own custom fit hell.