“We’ve got to get you out on the town some night,” my friend said to me the other day.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Why?” he enquired in mock reply. “Why? I’ll tell you why. Because all you ever do is watch TV. That’s why.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I wondered. “Isn’t that what it’s all about? You work all day, rush home, watch TV till midnight and go to bed.”
“My gosh, man,” he said to me, sympathy showing on his tired face. “You really don’t know, do you? There’s a whole world out there. So much fun to be had. So many things to do.”
“I do things,” I protested.
“Come one,” he answered. “Tell me one thing you’ve done all week that wasn’t connected with TV.”
I thought for a minute.
“I give up,” I said. “You’re right.”
“That’s more like it,” he said, with relief. “Face it. You’re in a rut. The most exciting thing that’s happened to you lately was when they moved Family Ties to Sunday nights.”
“You’re right about that,” I admitted. “I can still remember where I was and what I was doing when I heard the news they were giving that show a new time slot.”
So, I got all dressed up and my friend and I headed out for a night on the town.
To say the tavern was packed with people would be like describing a gorilla as having a full head of hair. There were smiling people everywhere – standing in corners, sitting on stools, leaning
against walls and jumping up and down on the dance floor. Rock ’n’ roll music shot out of four speakers hanging from the ceiling.
“You were right,” I called to my friend.
“I don’t have a light,” he shouted back.
“No, I said I’m glad,” I screamed.
“Whadya mean ‘that’s too bad’?” he yelled in return. “You don’t smoke.”
“I’ll tell you later,” I hollered.
“Tell the waiter what?” he roared back.
The only two empty chairs we could see were located at a table where two young women were sitting. We went over, sat down and started yelling at them. They yelled back and we all carried on as if this was the most natural thing in the world to do.
“Do you want to dance?” I shouted at one of them.
“No,” she hollered back, loudly. More loudly, in fact, than I think was necessary.
The drinks came and I pulled out a $5 bill to pay for the first round. The waiter asked for $7.70.
With a tip, $9.
“Do you know how many movies you can rent for $9?” I yelled to my friend.
“You spent $49?” he asked. “On what?”
With so many people in the place, it was warm and I started to sweat in my brand new winter coat. I’d have hung it up at the coat rack by the door but I was afraid it would get stolen. Looking back, I wish I had left it there because then I wouldn’t have been wearing it when the waiter’s tray got bumped and a full glass of beer tipped over, spilling its contents down my back.
A bright light on a dim horizon. A woman at the next table waved to me. I waved back. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. She blew a kiss. At the man at a table behind me.
The fun which had been coming at us in waves up to this point, started to taper off but it was about then that I noticed it. A big-screen colour TV hanging from a ceiling in a corner of the room. It was at least four times the size of the one I have at home. For the next two hours I watched it. I couldn’t hear it, but it was interesting nonetheless.
“Well, wasn’t I right?” my friend said on the way home. “You had a great time, didn’t you?”
“I sure did,” I agreed. “I especially liked the part where that guy came over and asked me if I didn’t think I was a little too old to be looking at his girlfriend like that.”
Back home, I passed up Carson and Letterman and headed straight for bed.
Party animals need their sleep.
©1987 Jim Hagarty
