Got the Number…

So, Thursday night was … different. What would Friday night bring? The following is an excerpt from an email that I sent to a friend who called last week wondering what I was doing for Valentines’ Day:

Friday was a zoo [at work] and the 7th period class, even without the computers, were pretty much out of control. I ended up staying until almost eight because there was a ton of paper that I needed to put away/store/or toss. I got out of there, did some quick shopping at CompUSA (printer cartridges and earphones for my iPod). I originally thought to eat at home and then go to my local pub, taco beach, for a few beers, but it was getting so late that I just went straight over.

When I got there it must have been “guys only” night, for the lack of females in the place, except for our lovely bartenders, and some punk band was torturing us from the tiny stage. I chatted with a guy on my right and we noted when the second band started to set up that they must be a better band because the caliber of groupies jumped significantly and my buddy pointed out a cute brunette with a short pixie haircut and it being a typical male bonding kind of thing he asked me if I thought that I could handle that. I had finished my two tall beers and had moved on to my Long Island Ice teas… what was I going say? She was cute standing across the room with her friends. I turned back to him and said without missing a beat, “I could handle that with one hand.” We both laughed ’cause she was way too cute and way too young… er… I mean we were way too old.

Then after the band played I turn around and she had stepped up to the bar in the gap between my buddy and I. He started up a conversation with her, found out that the guy she seemed to be with was her brother. We also found out that she plays the drums and ice hockey with the boys. And then for God knows what reason he asked her which one of us she thought was cooler, him or I. She looked at me and correctly guessed that I was a musician and said me. Poor dude, totally shot himself in the foot and then I guess he’d said something about buying her a drink but walked away. So I told her that I’d buy her the drink. We talked for fifteen maybe twenty minutes. Her name is Taide, she’s a free-lance fashion designer, spends time in New York but really wants to open a boutique in LA and live in Huntington Beach. Her brother and her friend were at the end of the bar and she noticed that they were being more friendly than she’d noticed before so she excused herself to rejoin them and check it out.

I’d taken some pictures and video with the camera on my phone earlier… first one (above) it’s mostly of the bartender, Aimee, the brunette. She puts up with a lot from us. The second video begins with the bartender Katie, then when the camera swings down to the end of the bar, just as the guy with a beard is sitting down, there’s a trio next him: a brunette next to a guy and then a girl in red/orange. The brunette is Taide. Sorry you can’t really see her… damn cell phone cameras have no zoom. And the shot ends with my buddy on my right, who had returned after shooting himself in the foot.

So, normally that’d be the end of the story. But, well, I think I was on my 2nd LI and I decide to join the trio at the end of the bar. I wandered in that direction, didn’t just barge in. But when she noticed me she said, “Oh, have you come by to say hello?” and then introduced me to her brother and her friend. We chatted for a bit more, then it was getting close to closing time and her party looked like they were getting ready to leave. The normal “Joe maneuver,” I would kind’a wave and say something lame like, “well, see you some time.” I don’t know. Maybe being frustrated with work and being a bit unsure about what the hell I’m supposed to do with my life is just enough to push me out of my usual routine. I turned over my receipt for the evening and asked Taide for her number and she gave it to me. Damn. That made for a really good end to a somewhat fucked up week.

Well, I better go so I can make a phone call. “Swingers,” the movie, required a 48-hour holding period. But I gather that this generation just ain’t that willing to wait. Damn, this was supposed to be a brief note to you. Oh well… catch you later … xoxo, jbb

Editor’s Note (from the future): When I went to call Taide she didn’t include her area code with the number and none of the local ones seemed to work. It just dawned on me that it could have been a New York area code, but from New York state or city… Date connection fail.