2006-11-16 - 6:21 a.m.
You�re sitting at a table by yourself listening to the awful music spun by a DJ who�s obviously too young to have lived through the era. Weren�t Bel Biv Devoe in New Edition? You�d always preferred the latter days with Johnny Gill. Shit. You should have expected this. It is indeed like a bad high school dance. You suck down the last of your Diet Pepsi. You�ll make your apologies to Marty when he comes back and skedaddle. Not that he�d even notice your absence at the rate he�s going.
Marty comes back to the table from his sixth or seventh trip to the bar, laughing maniacally and accompanied by a brunette cackling likewise. She also has a drink in her hand. They sit down heavily in seats on the other side of the table.
�Hey!� Marty bellows to you, much louder than necessary. �Meet Carla! She�s an accountant too!�
You nod at her cursorily. �Pleasure.�
You start to get up to make your exit, but a smallish woman appears at your side of the table.
�Lord. Is Carla bothering you guys?� she fumes. Carla doesn�t seem to take the slightest notice of her. �I�m fucking sick of playing babysitter. I mean, we�re all grown-ups here. This is the third guy tonight.�
Marty seems equally oblivious she�s talking. �Well, I guess some people just don�t get out much,� you say, glaring at Marty guffawing. �Might as well pull up a seat and watch the chaos. Uhm� Miss��
�Dianne,� she takes the seat next to you and shakes your hand.
The song �The Sign� begins over the sound system. A lot of women twitter excitedly and rush on to the dance floor. Oof. You wince visibly.
�Not a fan of the Ace of Base?� asks Dianne, seemingly with some sympathy.
�I was just thinking how the music picks have to cater to the lowest common denominator to appeal to as many people as possible. I think this is exhibit A.�
�Playing All the Greatest Hits of the �80s and �90s!� she growls sarcastically.
�Heh. I remember this was big right after Kurt Cobain died. I thought: wow, this is definitely �the sign� of the end of good music.�
Across the table, Carla screams in hysterics at something Marty�s said and leans into him, putting her hand on his knee. She appears to be quite tanked, bordering on blotto. Birds of a feather, you think with annoyance. Dianne sighs and tries to catch Carla�s eye, but she doesn�t appear able to focus on much. Dianne gives it up with a shrug.
�Man. Really not much point in her asking me to keep an eye on her when she downs like six shots as soon as my back is turned,� she fumes, shaking her head. �So yeah, I was in high school for this song. �Above the Rim� with Tupac had just come out. When I heard this, I remember being amazed at how some people just don�t get it.�
�You were a Tupac fan?�
�Oh, big-time. I guess you�d call me a �wigger� as a kid. Although I hate that term; it�s so disrespectful.�
�You were in high school when this came out?�
�I think it was senior year. Hey, wait a minute. Are you trying to figure out my age? It�s not polite to ask a lady�s age.�
You blush and stammer. �No! I was just uhm, asking. Making conversation. I mean, I didn�t mean to be rude. I uh, I just��
�Hehe, it�s okay. I was born at midnight New Year�s 1976. Spirit of �76, you know?�
�Cool, really?�
�Well no, actually it was New Year�s 1975, but �76 sounds better.�
�Okay, I won�t tell.�
The DJ makes an abrupt segue into Rick Astley�s �Never Gonna Give You Up�. Across the table, Carla�s eyes light up and she starts clapping her hands. Marty says something into her ear and gives you a nod as he leads Carla off to the dance floor, both of them looking rather wobbly.
You roll your eyes; you�d mercifully forgotten about this song. �Jesus. Well, I think that�s my cue to take off.�
�Hmm. Don�t leave me here in this sonic Auschwitz. You want to adjourn to the bar?�
�Uhm. Yeah, okay.�
You follow Dianne around the edge of the dance floor. Numerous people who should be old enough to know better are shimmying awkwardly, apparently trying to recapture their youth. You wonder if they also weren�t terribly good dancers back in the day.
When you get to the bar, the bartender raises his eyebrows at Dianne, wordlessly asking for her order.
�Diet Coke, please.�
�Pepsi?�
�That�s fine.�
The bartender turns to you expectantly.
�Yeah, I�ll have the same.�
He turns away to pull your drinks.
�Hey, don�t feel you have to not order alcohol because I�m not.�
You shift your weight nervously. �Oh, you know. Uhm. I�m taking it one day at a time.�
Dianne nods and looks down. �Friend of Bill�s?�
You look down too. �Yeah. Almost a year. I�m still trying to figure out social situations like this.�
�Yeah,� she says quietly and raises her head again. �It�s okay. Three years here.�
The bartender comes back with your Pepsis. �Nine dollars, please.�
You put a ten on the bar.
�I used to be as sloppy as them,� Dianne snorts, picking up her glass. �Especially after I broke up with my ex.�
�Yeah, ex. I have one of those. Well it was a while ago, over a decade. Our kid was grown, so I never really had to pay child support.�
You both sip your sodas without saying anything. �I Wanna Sex You Up� by Color Me Badd comes on. You wince again.
�Hey, you want to caffeinate?� you ask Dianne. �It�s the official vice of AA. There�s this Pacific Northwestern literary themed place near here.�
She grins. �Oh, Starbucks? Yeah, I�ve been meaning to try that.�
�Let me grab my coat.�
� 2006 Geoff Gladstone
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