Yesterday I had The Crank going on. I had been cold all day and had a headache (which didn’t go away until mid-morning today). I was grumpy and foul-mouthed the entire time we were in the car driving to dinner. I was the perfect date, huh?
We went to one of our favorite neighborhood joints that would cause a serious drain on the bank account if we lived in the neighborhood. The place was jammed and everyone seemed to be having a good night. The smoke was thick, the alcohol was flowing and the guys in the galley kitchen were working hard. The women who run the front-end of the house were busy hustling around the place and visiting with the regulars. When the better-half got a cup of navy bean soup and asked for ketchup, the waitress said, “honey, that’s so old timey”.
Half way through our pitcher of beer, the music changed and got much louder. The Birthday song by The Beatles started playing and we knew to start looking around. The owner brought out a shot with a sparkler in it to a woman who was at least 50. The whole restaurant started clapping for her. She drank her shot down like a trooper. I looked at the better-half and said, “I’m glad we were here for that”. My crank was gone.