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Woozy on the lido deck of life By Chris Erskine
http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | Our friends Will and Linda, and their little boy Splat, had us over the other day. We ended up at that restaurant Islands, with me face down in my margarita, diving for pearls. I'd almost lost consciousness when someone hollered, "OK, WHO HAD THE ONION RINGS?!!" "ME!" I sputtered. "OK, then," said the server, a little scared. "Is he always like this?" Linda asked my wife. "No, he's usually not this much fun," she said. Actually, Will and Linda already know this about me. Friends forever, they know all our secrets and we know theirs. It is almost like we married them, which is a fun way to think of good friends — as extra spouses you never have to see naked in the bathroom. At one point, Will launches into the story about his bachelor party. Will had one of those bachelor parties that seemed to last eight months. It started in Vegas, moved to "Who knew strippers could be so temperamental?" Will explained. The story of his bachelor party gets better every time he tells it: explosions, extortion, jail time. I nod and prompt him for more details. I find people more entertaining the longer you know them, for you memorize their tendencies and their weaknesses. You know how to tee up a punch line, or when to call their bluff. For me, the best part of life is good banter. In that sense, it was a remarkable evening with Will and Linda. We changed tables at the restaurant after they mistakenly put the six of us in a booth that seats six. The moms decided that wasn't enough room with two kids along, ages 4 and 7. A table for 12 would be much better. "Could we get that table instead?" someone asked the waiter. "Huh?" "Oops, Splat just dropped his drink," Linda said.
By the way, Islands is a great place for an intimate dinner — like falling down a Polynesian rabbit hole. Pretty much the only restaurants I frequent these days have laminated menus and unforgiving tiki motifs. All other restaurants bore me, except for the occasional steakhouse with red leather booths. Those I can stomach. And ballparks. When it comes to romantic dinners, ballparks have no equal. So, yeah, it's just another weekend here in paradise, this Saturday dinner the climax. I find that, with suburban life, you get out of it only as much as you put in. In that sense, I feel like the social director on a doomed and creaky cruise ship. In this case, the dinner is our reward for a major home repair I'd helped with. "Hey, let's fix it," I told Will the day before, when he complained about pigeons in their attic. "You'd really give me a hand with that?" he said. "Sure," I said. I am a man of remarkable limitations, but I can fix almost anything in a house, as long as it doesn't involve the people who reside there. I can hang a door, wire a spotlight, grout tile. When Will wants to put up screening to keep out the pigeons — and at least one libidinous raccoon — I jump at the opportunity. As with any home chore, the first thing Will and I did was spend two hours at the hardware store. Then we drove around a while, talking about girls we've known and cars we love. Then he took me up to the club, where we checked out the carpeting in the new pro shop. "What took you so long?" Will's wife asked when we return. When wives ask difficult questions, I find it best to pretend not to speak the language. You just shrug and chuckle as if visiting a country where you don't know all the local customs. For 25 years, this little bit of marital jitterbugging has worked exceptionally well. "Up to the roof!" Will said. It took us 20 minutes to patch the holes in the eaves. It would've taken 10, except that after we plugged the first one, we took a 10-minute break. Then we cut some more hardware cloth and patched the little cave opening where the raccoon was taking his ladies. "I think I can say with confidence," I told Will when finished, "that we have successfully penned in whatever was living in your attic." "Well done, sir!" Will said. With that, we went to dinner. Every weekday JewishWorldReview.com publishes what many in the media and Washington consider "must-reading". Sign up for the daily JWR update. It's free. Just click here. Comment by clicking here.
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Arnold Ahlert | |||||||||||||
