I’m sitting in bed right now, contemplating my most terrifying birthday celebration. I just have to call and make a reservation. Maybe after I’ve written a few more paragraphs.
If you’ve been reading my blog, you know I don’t like traditional birthdays. I don’t like traditional anything.
|My traditional wedding.|
The next year, I took a skydiving class.
Until now. Okay, Matthew. Let’s do this! Pick up the phone! Booyeah!
You know what? It’s probably too early. They wouldn’t have opened yet. I don’t want to leave a message.
This year I plan on doing something truly terrifying; I’m going to go to a bar and put on a performance. I’m not scared about performing or going to a bar. It’s calling up and making the reservation that scares the bejeezus out of me. I’ve been putting it off for weeks.
They must be open by now. Don’t be scared. You jumped out of a plane without a moment’s hesitation! You stuck your hand in a kiln filled with lava and didn’t care! Do it!
Wait, what’s the number? I’ll look it up later.
A few weeks ago, I scoped out three potential places with my son. The first was the Rose and Crown in Palo Alto.
|Where you can make anything look British if you just use paint.|
Later we had lunch at St. Stephen’s Green in Mountain View.
|Shouldn't their sign be, you know, green?|
The Duke of Edinburgh in Cupertino was so nice my son dragged me inside.
|If it was truly British, that red call box would be blue with a flashing light on top.|
Scoping complete, I decided Rose and Crown was the best. However, when I called, the manager told me it was illegal to have a patron behind the bar and that he didn’t have any bartenders who would play along. My plans fell into disarray. Would I have to put an actor in the front of the bar? How would that work?
Yesterday my mother (Hi Mom!) mentioned that St. Stephen’s Green has areas with little, half-walls. We could put an actor behind one and pretend it was a bar. Now all I have to do is call.
Any minute now.