Harvey Harmonica

OK, so Jason and I were out to dinner at Grill One Eleven.  We stood at the bar and swilled cocktails while waiting for our table to be ready. There was a quaint little 2 piece band playing in the corner.  A keyboardist and a vocalist were getting down with their bad selves to the tune of Natalie Merchant, Melissa Etheridge, Carly Simon and the like.  Real maniacs I tell you. Anyway, out of the corner of his mouth Jason whispers, "without being too obvious, take a look at the guy at the bar with the harmonica".  Everyone who's anyone knows that 'obvious' is my middle name, so I whip my head around and see an older man with a handle bar moustache trying to keep time with the band.  "Yeah? And?" I replied to Jason, "what about him".  Jason takes a long drink and quietly mentions, "he's not with the band". 

 It takes a moment for this to sink in, but when it does, a big, obnoxious smile breaks out across my face (Not unlike the Grinch). I'm trying to process the magnitude of the situation, but all I can think of is my blog and how I can regale you with this story.  In case you need me to spell it out for you, this guy randomly shows up to the bar/restaurant and plays along with the band without their consent. He's about 104, so the liklihood of him knowing any of these songs is slim to none, but God bless 'em, he tries. He's totally throwing the band off key and you can tell they're like, "Um, can you NOT play along, thanks".  This would be like me bringing a wireless mic to a comedy club and piggy backing on all his jokes from my table. "HA HA, THAT HAPPENED TO ME ONCE TOO". 

We imagined the man with the handle bar moustache kissed his wife good bye every Friday night and told her he had a 'gig'.  She would picture him up on stage while young hotties throw their bras at him.  But really, he just sits at the end of the bar, trying to keep time with his li'l harmonica.....to songs that don't sound good with a harmonica, mind you.  I mean, no one was playing Piano Man, ya know?

So, we immediately stop talking to each other and we become fixated on this man and his harmonica. We take our places in leather chairs so we can have front row seats.  We look like we're watching a ping pong match because our eyes are bouncing from the singer to the harmonica man and back again.  (The straw never left my mouth, in case you're wondering how I found the time to drink through all of this).

The server comes to get us and seats us upstairs. DAMN IT!  Now what will entertain us throughout our meal?  I barely have my coat off and I'm making up some excuse to have to go down to the bathroom.  I race down the stairs and now the guy has this long box in front of him with various harmonica accessories in it.  I trek back upstairs and explain my findings to Jason.  Our appies come, we seem distracted and preoccupied.  Jason asks me for the 4,000th time what I plan to do with myself once Gabe starts Kindergarten in the Fall.  I ignore him because everyone knows I don't want to do anything with myself when Gabe starts Kindergarten (duh).  Jason says, "you want to go downstairs and check on your friend, don't you"?  (he knows me so well) I push my chair back like gang busters and fly down the stairs, two steps at a time and I see that he now has a fancy little harmonica holder that attaches to his ears, so he can go hands free.  I'm dying.  He has literally put this much thought into breaking into the band.  I look and see the 'band' is blatenly annoyed.  I mean, how well can you play Shawn Colvin with a whining harmonica interrupting your mad solo?

I fly back up the stairs and report the update to Jason.  We conceded to the fact that Harvey Harmonica was simply going to occupy our dinner.  Talk of Leslie's future, BE DAMNED!  So, Jason and I can often get to exaggerating and embellishing (WHAT...no, no, it's true).  We came up with this bang up plan for next Friday night and every single Friday night hereafter.  Next Fri., I'm going to show up and Grill One Eleven and take my seat at the bar.  I'll wait until the band starts to play and then I'm going to whip out my ecclectic collection of spoons and start playing them on the wooden barrel I'll have turned upside down on my lap.  They won't mind.  After all, it will accentuate their music.  The following week, I'll sit at a table, closest to the band and when the music starts, I'll surrupticiously side step my way over to the mic and start whistling along with her.  The week after that, humming. 

That's all the ridiculousness I can possibly get out of that story.  Enjoy your weekends!!!!

~L.