I hadn't enjoyed a good night's sleep in a month.
My insomnia-induced delirium had reached a peak two nights ago, as I announced to S, "I'm so tired of studying Property." For the lurking lawyers (all two of you), you know. And so that evening was spent watching the Kings lose to the Red Wings.
Yesterday wasn't that great a day either, studying-wise. I am slogging through the bar review materials. I'd settled at my desk for a long Friday eve of studying, when S arrived home from the gym and blurted, "I think you should go tonight and have a beer, or two." She'd planned on seeing a friend, T's, band down at the Coach House. With affected and mocked disdain, I challenged her: "Reeeaaalllllly?"
You know I wanted to go.
So within an hour, I'd showered, wolfed down leftovers from the prior evening; J arrived, and we all left to travel to Capistrano.
S's friends are mostly teachers. A nice, friendly bunch, the whole of them; and I have grown rather fond of them. They've been a strong support for both S and me during all of law school and bar exam crappage. I've come to know and become friends with the husbands of these teachers. This past summer, I played in a fantasy baseball league with them, including bandleader T. Great guys. Met a friend of a friend, a girl named Zusi (ZOO-zhee). What a cool name! I understand it's Hungarian in origin. As another teacher friend, B, declared, "You never forget a Zusi." I guess you don't.
We missed some of T's set; I think 'though just one or two songs. Bastards had switched the order of the bands. T's band was supposed to go right before the headliner, since the house rule is that if your band sold the most tickets, you got to go right before the headlining act; the other opening band had sold zero. However, apparently, the other opening band's contract required that they play right before the headliner band.
So T's crew went first. Having grown up in a musical family and having gone to college with many musically talented people, I never grow tired of seeing a friend's persona completely change once he or she takes the stage, with the houselights dimmed and the spotlight shining. T, normally an easygoing, type B guy, was a totally different dude when he played and sang. It's a beautiful thing.
The second band was cool, too. The lead singer's voice was a blend of Bono in his upper range and the singer from Four Non Blondes - I know that could sound wretched in your mind's ear, but he was good. But, while pretty talented, he was a bit brooding and petulant for my taste. (Isn't the angry young man thing over? Ya gotta remember, there's an audience there, too. Otherwise, I'd go see them again.) The headliner, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, was really tight and entertaining. Apparently, Roger's previous band, the Refreshments, had done the theme song for the tv show, King of the Hill.
B's boyfriend J, had enjoyed the attention of our waitress. At the beginning of the evening, her hair was nicely arranged up. By the time Roger and his band hit the stage, her hair was down, she told him she was a nurse in Huntington Beach, and so on...
It's always an adventure to order drinks at a bar for me, because my hearing isn't great in loud situations. So, I grabbed an empty Heineken bottle, got the waitress's attention, pointed at the label and gestured with my fingers, "Two."
She came to our table and said something. Of course, I could not discern anything intelligible.
I leaned in. "What?"
She leaned in closer. "Blah blah blah, glass?"
I leaned in closer. "No, I'm good."
She leaned in closer. "Blah blah blah, tab?"
"No, I'm good. Thank you."
I guess my bespectacled mug was positioned very close to the waitress's pretty face. I turned and saw S, with raised eyebrows, eyeing me warily. I explained, "We have a date." That elicited a hearty chuckle.
It was a fun evening. All work and no play, etc. You know?
And so last night, I had my best sleep in a month.
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