Okay, when last we met our fearless adventurers (i.e., us), they were in a loud pub in Fort Worth on the evening of Tuesday, April 19, 2022. And they were trying to figure out why there were all those people in the pub, getting slightly smashed, and being very loud, on a weeknight.
And it was while they were beginning their plate of hummus that, suddenly, like the rolling thunder of the trumpet of the world’s ending…they heard a pub employee using a (very) loud loudspeaker to announce that it was, once again, Trivia Night. And everyone cheered.
Except our heroes. Who suddenly realized why the place was crowded. And loud. And crowded. And loud. Particularly loud.
Did I mention loud? Anyway. It was. Loud, I mean.
Now, nothing against trivia games. Really. Nothing. But…Martha and I aren’t really games players. The idea of a cheery evening with hyper-competitive couples bashing each other Will & Grace-style with endless rounds of charades, Pictionary, beer pong (oh, God, kill me now), and so on…well, makes us cringe. That’s just the way we’re built.
But now…the MC filled the airways with such booming queries as: “Where was the Foxburo Stadium and what was it renamed?” “Who played the Cisco Kid?” “What Austrian Psychoanalyst said that ‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’” (Freud, of course. Sheesh). “What was Elton John’s first hit single?” “Who played the second Dr. Who? Who the Who? Get it? Ha.” And on. And on. And on.
And, of course, the crowd grew louder, and drunker, with each passing round.
The waitress came and gave us our check. As she bent over to place it on the counter before us, she whispered “I am so, so sorry.”
We thanked her. Sincerely. I gave her a big tip, actually. I figured she deserved it.
We finished our drinks and headed out. It was a quick walk to the car and then we drove toward the hotel. We arrived and got ready for bed. I apologized to Martha, again, for getting her into the situation at the bar.
She laughed and said, “Actually, you don’t have to say you’re sorry.”
“No. Because, crazy as it was, I really enjoyed it.”
And, of course, I realized it was true. it wasn’t our scene. It wasn’t the evening we had expected. But at least we weren’t stuck at home, watching BBC murder mystery re-runs, and wondering if Lockdown and Injury would ever let us out into the world again. And if we had been among people who shared few interests with us, at least they were happy, and enjoying themselves, and full of life.
So, I was reassured. And I promised Martha that we would go back to the same bar the next time we visited Fort Worth, but we’d go on a night that wasn’t trivia night, and we’d have that quiet drink after all.
Oh, and if you’re interested? The Second Doctor Who? I looked him up.
It was Patrick Troughton.
So there, too. (Insert Tardis sounds here. Rumble rumble rumble. Weee-oooo. Etc.)
About the photo: again, nothing to do with Fort Worth, mostly because I couldn’t get any pictures of Martha *inside* the pub. This is actually from a few days ago and is of her during our visit to Georgetown’s remarkable “Sunken Garden.” I’ll talk about that in time.
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