A Lone Star Tradition

The other night Mike and I were blessed with the chance to go on a real date--no kids for five hours--dinner and a movie. I don't think we've done both together for at least five years!

For dinner, we went to a local Tex Mex spot and enjoyed the frozen margarhettias--I even had one and half--something I almost never do since I am still nursing Spanky. I figured I should be OK if I kept munching on the stuffed jalepenos and Hatch chili quesadillas.

Anyway, next to us was a table of two middle aged couples plus a much older couple--my guess, one of the younger person's parents. The waiter stood on their bench and announced to the entire restaurant it was the older woman's birthday, her 21st birthday.

Me, being a bit happy on tequilla myself mentioned that everyone who turns 21 should have a shot of tequlia.

My ever social husband Mike turns to the birthday 'girl' and asks if she would like to do a shot. The entire table explodes in laughter and birthday girl looks directly at Mike and says "Sure".

Mike calls over the waiter and tells him what he'd like to do. A true salesman, the waiter asks if we want the good tequila since it is her '21st' birthday after all.

"Absolutely," says Mike. "1800 Cuervo."

The waiter disappears and quickly returns with a shot, mentioning to Mike and everyone else that when she got sick, Mike would have to clean it up.

The birthday girl is handed her shot of 1800, a lime and a salt shaker. The entire place is now in a trance watching her. The room is silent. 

Her daughter (or maybe daughter-in-law) softly explains how to take a shot. 

Lick, slam, suck.

The rest of the table pulls out cell phones to capture the moment on digital film.

The birthday girl looks worried.

"You know, " Mike leans over to her. "You only want to take a sip and then share it with the table. That's what you do."

She suddenly looks at ease, licks the salt on her wrist, takes a small sip and shoves the lime in her puckered mouth. The restaurant explodes in cheers. The 1800 is passed down and enjoyed by the rest of the table--the anchor man at the end finishing off the remaining 3/4.

The table cannot stop laughing and begin to discuss how to put the moment on Youtube or at least somewhere in cyberspace. The daughter (or maybe daughter-in-law) is worried her siblings will never let mom visit Texas again. 

They are having the an amazing time.

Mike and I check our watches and realize we are late for our date with The Dark Night at the movie theater across the way.

The birthday girl stops us and thanks us. She confesses she just turned 83. And she was having a great night. We wish her a happy birthday and disappear in the crowd, giddy with the joy we brought to a complete table of strangers for the cost of a shot of 1800. It was one of those random acts of kindness I hope we can repeat again and again. Maybe not in the form of alcohol but somehow, somewhere for someone.

And I have to admit I plan on googling 'old woman doing a tequila shot' to see if it ever made it to the net :)

Sunday Story--Is it two pounds per one dollar or two dollars per pound?

We landed in London, late morning (London time). We began to walk through mazes and were truly lost puppies looking for home. Mike turned to a guy next to him that looked like he rode Harleys for a living. 

"You're new to this, aren't you, " he smiled.

"Yes, could we follow you?" Mike the ever trusting husband said.

"Sure," he nodded us through a gate and began to explain the whole customs process.

Mike, being his usual chatty self asked if our new friend would care to join us for coffee to thank him for his help. He would be delighted to.

So sitting down, I learned our friend, Captain Bucko, was a truly interesting individual. According to him, the good captain, he had been abroad several times and had visited many countries we were going to see.

"So where are you staying?" he inquired.

"This place called The Athenaeum," Mike answered as he pulled out the itineary the travel agent gave us.

The captain rubbed his chin, "Don't know anything about that place."

"According to our travel agent it's somewhere between a Hilton and say the Ritz--nice but not too nice, we're not the Trumps, "I was getting into the conversation.

"And it's really not too pricy, "Mike chimmed in. "It's only 380 pounds a night so that's what $185 or so?"

Captain Bucko started to laugh, "My friend, you are confusing your math. As you will quickly learn, two dollars is worth one pound, not two dollars per pound. "

Mike and I were speechless. He continued.

"The room is actually more like $760 a night. A bit OTT as they say here."

Mike and I both looked at each and mouthed 'Oh my goodness'.

I turned to Captain Bucko, "Maybe it's a mistake on this sheet. Maybe it's really dollars. A little too high but."

"We are staying there for four nights--that's like three grand," Mike blurted out.

"Well," Captain Bucko scratched his beard. "I do have some friends, the Millers. They are into antiques and have a little bed and breakfast. Let me write down their info for you. The guy who runs it is a great fella. I wouldn't be surprised if you called him and he came and picked you up himself in his land rover and took you about town."

"That would be great, "Mike was smiling. I was unsure.

"Well honey, "I began. "Why don't we see if it's a mixup at the hotel and take it from there?"

"But this seems..."

"I want to try the hotel, "I forced a smile. I was going to play the bride card and he knew it. Mike nodded and we got up from our chairs.

"Well the travel agent said we need to catch a train to the other airport because it's closer to our location and take a cab from there."

Captain Bucko nodded and got up. "I understand. Now when you get to the other airport, you exit to the left and find a que, that's a line, for cabs called blackies. Blackies are great cabs but they again are OTT."

"Oh great," Mike smiled.

"It was great meeting you again," I shook the captain's hand.

"Yes and thank for your help," Mike said pulling out his wallet.

Captian Bucko, pulled out his wallet and motioned Mike to put his away and paid for our coffee and pasteries. "You're own your honeymoon, allow me," he smiled. "And remember if you call the Millers, tell them Captain Bucko sent you they'll give you a good rate. And you can't get in without a referral."

Captain Bucko went back to the plane to catch his connection to France and we proceeded to take off for our train. Before boarding we exchanged our dollars for a small sum of pounds. Mike went to buy the tickets for the train, coach again.

"I don't know about that bed and breakfast, "I said as we were waiting.

"He seemed nice and come on three grand is going to kill us. We'll be broke."

"I'd rather be broke than on the British news as a serial killer victim, "I mumbled. "The whole thing seems like a scam. I mean who is really that nice?"

Mike sighed, "I guess you have a point. It did seem a bit odd that he knew about bed and breakfast. Well here's out train."

We got on the train and saw it was bumper to bumper people. I mean pressed to the glass so many people. There was no way we could even fit. I looked to my left and saw the other car was almost empty.

I grabbed Mike's sleeve. 

"Come on, looks like no one saw this side," I was very eager to sit on one of the cushy benches I saw.

We got in and sat down across from an older man, a professor at Duke we later learned, and gave each other subtle high fives. We could not understand how the people in the other car were so well stupid to be all crammed like they were.

As the train began to roll, I was mesmorized by the beautiful countryside. It was truly lovely, The green was amazing and the little home adorable. I was getting really excited to soak in this new land. 

"Tickets," the polite (and by the way, all British are polite--very polite) conductor asked our table.

The professor pulled out his ticket and then Mike pulled out his.

"Sir, "polite conductor addressed Mike. "These are for coach. You are unfortunetly in first class."

I glanced back at the crammed car behind us, and then I gave Mike my please don't-make-me-go-there look.

"Um, "Mike began. "I am so sorry. Is there anyway I can pay you the additional fee now." 

Surely it's only a few bucks.

"Of course sir. That will five pounds, each."

Mike sighed and took out the wallet. Our pounds were dropping faster than a weight watcher meeting. 

I smiled and continued to enjoy the countryside.

We arrived at the station and true to Captain Bucko's words, found the Blackies. We looked for the que but found nothing. We began to walk right up to the cabs when I noticed a rather large line way behind us. Our first lesson in England. You don't stand right up at the cabs for que. You poiltely wait well back. Now no one said anything as we walked straight to the front (very polite remember) but felt uneasy stares so Mike and quickly ran  to the back of the que.

We got in the Blackie and drove for about a block to our hotel. Five pounds.

The Athenaeum was pretty, I will admit that. A door man went straight to our cab and grabbed our bags. He scanned our luggage tag and greeted us by Mr and Mrs last name and then led us to the lobby where he introduced us to the front desk by name and began our registration. I was impressed but not $780 a night impressed.

Will we stay at the hotel or trust Captian Bucko? Will we go see the queen? All these questions and more will be answered next week!

****Quick Update: I was reviewing old stuff and I am about 100 pounds off on the hotel room--it was 280 pounds. I thought $780 seemed too high :0****

Sunday Story--Stinky Feet and the Alcoholic

One my guiltiest pleasures before kids (and esp. before they were old enough to understand anything) was to snuggle under a big blanket and get lost in a Lifetime movie--the crazier the better. Since I can't do that anymore (even the commercials seem to require explaining 'mommy what's genital herpes'), I have decided to recall past events in my life and bring the story back to Sunday :)

The day after our wedding, my wonderful new husband and I were enjoying breakfast in out stunning honeymoon suite overlooking Dallas via a floor to ceiling window. The sun shone in the sitting room as we basked in the warm glow of new marriage. I wanted to stay in this place forever but I knew if we did we would miss out flight. Our honeymoon . We had booked a European castle tour with a brief stop in the fairy tale land of London.

We loitered as long as we could before we had to leave for the airport. We gathered our bags, checked out of the lap of luxury and climbed in the SUV. Because it was an international flight, we thought getting there two hours before would be plenty of time. Yes, it was our first international flight.

After we passed customs, a quick baggage check (the pre-9/11 baggage check), we checked in at the front desk. Because we wanted to spend three weeks overseas, most of our honeymoon allowance was spent on the tour and hotels, leaving us in coach. But how bad could that be? We flew coach to Cleveland, Florida, everywhere else. Coach is just fine. 

We asked the clerk, for two seats by the window. She laughed.

"Those seats filled up hours ago," she smiled. "We only have the center seats left."

"Center can't be too bad," I smiled. Nothing was going to break my spirits. I just got married.

We got on the plane and realized the center section was five seats across and we were seats 3 and 4. I said a silent prayer that maybe seat #5 or even seat #2 would miss the flight. They did not.

Seat #5 was a young, single girl traveling for business. She seemed sweet. Seat #2 was a British man traveling with his wife in seat #1. He was a bit bigger than the average Joe but looked nice. The couple was coming back from vacation. They looked happy and relaxed. 

Shortly after take off, seat #5 pulled called for stewardess and got a cup. She proceeded to pull a mini bottle of scotch out of her carry-on. I thought she might have a good idea--it was a ten hour flight after all. I noticed my new husband glancing through a magazine and decided to do the same. When the captain announced we were about to pass over New York City, I peered up from my magazine to try to catch a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. I looked over seat #5's tray and saw two empty bottles of scotch and a third half full. I said another prayer hoping she could her liquor. 

Once we started our journey over the Atlantic, both my husband and I noticed a rather foul smell. I began to worry it was our dinner. Then my husband tapped my shoulder and tilted his head toward seat #2. He had made himself more comfortable by taking off both his shoes and socks. And he really should have kept them on. The odor was worse than a boys' high school locker room (according to my husband--I've never been in one, really). I picked up the bag of chips they had just passed out and put it against my face to kill the smell. I wondered if it bothered seat #5--she was reaching for her fourth mini. And exposed a rather hairy arm pit that was suddenly giving seat #2's feet a run for their money. Lovely.

Eventually the cabin began to darken and we were entertained with a second rate movie (no I do not remember). Once it was over, I began to dooze off between my movie watching husband and sleeping seat #5. 

And then Mr. Bean came on. If you are not familiar with Mr.Bean, he does zany physical comedy. Britain puffy hearts Mr. Bean or so I've been told. He was widely successful at the time. But as an American,  Mr.Bean is not funny--I'm sorry my overseas friends. He's not, he's really not (at least in this Texas gal's simple mind). Well seat #2 was a HUGE Mr. Bean fan. Both my husband and I found Mr.Bean to be the perfect sleeping pill, not seat #2. Every time, I felt myself drifting away from the smell, the tight quarters, the hum of the plane...I was awakened with the sound of the most loudest gut-filled laughter I had ever heard in my life. It was a joyous laugh I would have enjoyed during daylight hours but not when I had not slept in at least 20. I was wondering if seat #5 would notice if I snagged a mini--not to drink but to break over seat #2's head. Hey, I was tired.

Finally Mr.Bean was over and 'Friends' came on. I heard seat #2 mutter about how silly the show was and put on an eye mask. And ya know what my new husband and I did. We laughed at every single joke .

Tune in next week as we visit the Queen's house and learn our dollar is not so great in the world of pounds.