Last night was yet another Saturday at the Tipperary Inn. There were no dancers this time, but there was a Wedding Reception. Somehow I missed the sign directing regular customers to the back room, and barged right in. A lovely young woman in a white satin dress came toward me smiling and enveloped me in a hug, gushing "I'm so glad your here." A bit stunned, I hugged her in return and told her she looked absolutely beautiful. (Which she did.) She proceeded to tell me to get anything I wanted at the bar, and there was still some cake left. I thanked her, and went to the bar, trying to puzzle out - Was she embarrassed not to know one of her guests, and pretending to know me? Or did she THINK she knew me? I ordered my drink, and when the barkeep asked if I was with the reception I said no. I may be a social klutz who can't read signs, but I wouldn't increase the bar bill of total strangers. I asked the barkeep if I should go elsewhere and he said the room was only reserved for another 10 minutes, so I was fine, and did I want him to run a tab for me?
That settled, I turned to survey the room, expecting nothing but strangers. I was surprised to see a number of faces that were familiar from Scarborough Faire, Hawkwood, and various Irish and Scottish Festivals. No one I really knew, but many familiar faces. The band that the wedding party had hired began to tear down to make room for the regular band. There! Someone I actually knew. One of the musicians was someone I knew from Scarborough and had run into time and again over the years. This was an individual that I considered to be my ex's friend. Any time we actually spent with him, I mostly listened to them converse. Still, he had always waved and spoken when we crossed paths, and if he had a moment would stop and exchange a few pleasantries. That was really all I expected when I hailed him, but to my astonishment, he joined me at my table (which I had snagged as soon as possible) and remained there for the next two hours. Filling me in on the history of the band members, his, and the one that was playing that night, introducing me to various people that stopped to speak to him, and just maintaining general conversation. His wife, who was there, didn't seem to mind this as she did the table hopping butterfly bit. Foolish woman! I'm more dangerous than I look. (joking-joking - I think) I was really great visiting with him. Underscored the fact that in all the years I've known him, I never had.
The band was one I'd never heard. They were really good. Ordinarily, I don't care for other types of music mixed in with my Irish. They played a lot of Irish, but they also played Country -which was GOOD country, Salsa - also good, and some truly excellent Blues. I can't speak for the quality of the Jamaican - but it was fun so that was all right too. I guess I don't mind it being mixed when everything in the mix is good. They were good enough that when the time came to leave so I could catch the last bus, I chose not to. I wasn't tired, the music was good, and I had enough in my wallet to pay for a cab. So I stayed. The band was The Trinity River Whalers, for those who are curious.
As the evening was coming to an end, the bride was making her rounds bidding her remaining guests goodbye. As she headed for me, I wondered, would she ask now who I was, or drop a hint who she thought I was. She came to my table., hugged me again said how very pleased she was that I had come, made a bit more small talk about the evening. Then -- she asked if I was still telling stories with the Dallas Storytellers Guild. -brainskitter-- She knew that about me?? I calmly answered (No, they moved too far north). Meanwhile trying very hard to place this person. She commiserated about the effective loss of the Guild, and said that if the store was still open she would invite some of the members to meet there.
BINGO!! This was the owner of the shop where I told stories twice a month during the summer three years ago. She DID know me, and was apparently truly pleased that I was there. And I -didn't - have- a - clue. Shoot! If I'd known that, I would have had that free drink, and maybe some cake.
One more bit of bizarreness to top off the evening. As I was getting up to leave, I nodded at the couple who had been sitting at the bar behind me. I had asked them once to guard my drink while I went to the Ladies. They were positively beaming at me, and said that the next time they saw me they were going to buy me a drink. (Picture eyebrows shooting up)"Why?"
" Because we enjoyed so much watching you enjoy the music. Your enthusiasm is catching, and we had a better evening for it. We are buying you a drink." --- Watching me? ???????? Wait a minute! I'm the observer here. Isn't it odd how those of us solitaries who find entertainment, enlightenment and humor in watching the human parade, forget that there is a real possibility that someone is watching us? Watching me. Hmmm!
I took them up on the drink offer, chatted a bit, and scored a ride home. Good people. I hope I do see them again, and not just for the drink.
And that is my tale of the Tipperary for this week.
