The other night, Rob and I felt spontaneous so walked a block into town to have drinks in the outside courtyard at the Adelphi Hotel. Always fun and interesting, it’s like a time warp in there and usually a little quiet for my taste. I go because I love the lush plants and twinkle lights and the open sky over your head as you’re sipping a Planter’s Punch, but I usually leave because I feel like everyone’s listening to our conversation.
Or, as was the case this time, the sky erupted into rain and we had to book it home in a downpour. That, and, some guy we met at the bar (politely) assumed we were swingers, which scared the bejesus out of Rob. His wife was upstairs getting ready while he was in the bar, asking us for restaurant recommendations. After Rob asked him if he wanted to sit with us while he waited, he uttered some weird code phrase and Rob was out the back door like the place was caving in. To add insult to injury, the waitress brought Rob a Pinot Grigio instead of a Pinot Noir. No harm done: both glasses were on the creepy swinger, who bought them for us because (said the waitress) “He thought you two were so nice and sweet.”
Ah!
Here’s Rob. What you can’t see is his pale face and quivering hands, as he was quite shaken by Mr. Friendly’s comments.
And here I am making the really bad decision to order a Mint Julep. I swear I still taste bourbon when I brush my teeth or exhale with any force. In any event, I only drank half—remember, it was on the creepy man with the diamond-encrusted Rolex.
[The interior bar area. Time warp!]
I hope I haven’t completely scared you off from the idea of coming here. It’s really quite lovely, and they make a zillion drinks you’re usually afraid to ask for: pina coladas, white russians, and more.
Yes. My ex and I were in B.B.King’s Blues Bar and Restaurant in Nashville, the 3rd day we’d been in town.
I was decked out in my gorgeous new pink silk dress and he in his Kenneth Cole Ensemble (mind you, this was 6 years ago) – and I slipped away into the restroom for a minute, when I realized there were three reasonably attractive and young, yet not as young as I was at the time, women, who were wondering if my “then husband” and I were swingers. I raised an eyebrow and stated profoundly, yet questionably, “no.”
They giggled, gave me the once over and thought otherwise.
For the duration of our meal and enjoyment of live jazz music in a bluegrass environment of Country Music Entertainment and aspiring musicians, we were the topic of muffled giggles and sideways glances as others attempted to put a back story behind our evening of fun in Music City.
Needless to say, I thought I was the subject of mis-dressing for the evening — here I was, lost in the thought that perhaps I had a piece of toilet paper caught on my 3 inch stiletto, or that I had paired the wrong shade of blue with an even more wrong shade of brown, when really, we were out of place in our venture out on this night on the town because we weren’t donned in cut-off jean shorts and cowboy hats…
Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?