Teach
12-29-2013, 05:13 PM
"Ah," I said to no one in particular. I had just downed a cold, crisp and refreshing beer. I was feeling mellow. Relaxed. The world, or at least the crowd at "The Fitz" in Vegas was passing me by. I was sitting at Fitzgerald's second-floor bar. I was as serene as I had been in years. Then, "Hi Pardner," the voice rocked me out of my state of tranquility. It was if someone had verbally taken a bucket of Gatorade - ice cubes and all - and unceremoniously tossed the chilled contents onto my back.
Well, the man in the cowboy had who had just jolted me out of state of bliss asked, Mind if I join you?" "Be my guest," I said.
The man with the cowboy hat -- oh I'd put him in his 50s -- began to engage me in conversation. "Where y'all from?" he asked. "Boston," I said. "Oh, yeah, Boston," he repeated. "Been there several times," he said. "Love your seafood," he continued. "What y'all do up in Boston?" he asked. I said, "I'm a recently retired high school history teacher." "History," he said, "that was my favorite subject. The only part I didn't like was when Santie Annie and the Mexicans defeated us at The Alamo. But Sam Houston got'm back. We became the Lone Star Republic."
At that moment I thought he was going to let out with a hoop and a holler, but he didn't.
Well, the talkative stranger continued. "I'm from Texas (as if I didn't know)," he said. "Big 'D'," that's Dallas," he continued (another "dahh"). "It's been so dry the trees are bribin' the dogs. Get it, take a leak." "Yeah, I get it," I said. The Texan then continued, "I work for Schlumbarger; I'm here for an oil drillin' show over at the Convention Center. You've heard for Schlumbarger," he continued. "Yeah, I said," Don't they make mattresses?" (I was just kidding) "No son," he said. "You've musta heard of Haliburton; well, we're in the same business."
Seconds later, The Texan from "Big D" changed gears. He introduced himself, Hey, I'm Dick and your name is...." "Walt," I said. "Walt," he continued, "How'd y'all like to meet some beautiful women?" I said, "I've been married over 35 years. I'm not interested in adulterous relationships." "Come on, son," the Texan said. "I know you Bostonians are prim and proper, but haven't you ever cheated on your wife" Hey, ya know, 'played switchies'. You screw around with one of your wife's friends; your wife has fun with her husband." "Can't say I've done that," I said.
Well, after the Texan takes a few sips of beer, our conversation continues. He says, "Walt, haven't you ever been tempted?" I mean are you some kind of eunuch?" I said, "Frankly, I have been tempted a few times. Once, my wife was out shopping when she asked me to return a portable sewing machine she had borrowed from a neighbor. Well, this woman was very attractive and had a dynamite figure. I rang her doorbell (her husband was at work) and, seconds later, a voice calls out, "Come in." The next thing I hear was "I've just stepped out of the shower. You've caught me in a compromising position." Well, for a moment, a fleeting moment, I was tempted. Severely tempted. But I left the sewing machine in the hall and walked out.
Oh, there was another time I was working at a Boston radio station. One of the women in the sales department looked like Marilyn Monroe. We chatted several times and we had lunch together once, but that was as far as it went. Oh, I must have repressed it; we danced, close -- at a company Christmas party. But that's it."
About this time, the Texan starts selling me on the idea of us double-dating with a couple showgirls he's met. As he continues, my mind begins to wander back forty years to the Kenmore Square section of Boston. At the time, I'm single and living in an apartment near Boston University and I'm teaching history at East Boston High School. As a way of unwinding, I would go to singles bars two or three nights a week. I called my bar visits "recon. missions". I was looking for attractive single women.
That fall night I was at a place called "Lucifer's." Monday nights are usually slow and this one was no exception. Women -- not just attractive women -- were as scarce as hen's teeth. As I recall, I was sitting at the bar sipping on a cold brew when this guy sits down next to me. We strike up a conversation. He introduces himself. His name is Stan. He's an office machinery salesman. He tells me he was at this office equipment show in Boston over the weekend where he met this very attractive model who was working hospitality. He then asks if I'd like to double-date. He wants to fix me up with an accountant who works at one of the companies he calls on. I remember accepting his offer. I give him my telephone number.
Well a week or two go by. My chance meeting with Stan at Lucifer's is fast becoming a distant memory. Then, about two weeks after we met, Stan calls me. Our conversation went something like this: "Walt, it's Stan, the guy you met at Lucifer's. How'd you like to double this Saturday. The model I met at the show is available and the girl I mentioned, the accountant, is interested in meeting you. So what do you say." I said, "Fine." "Pick me up at 7 p.m. Saturday evening (he then gave me his address), Stan says. "How does doing some bar-hopping in Boston sound?" Again, I said, "Fine."
That Saturday, I picked up Stan. We then picked up my date, the accountant, who lived in Cambridge with her parents. I recall that she was quite attractive. She was also very personable. The three of us then picked up Stan's date who lived in an apartment she shared with two other women. I vividly recall that Stan went up to her apartment to get her. They both came down a few minutes later. It was tough to see as it was dark, but from what I could make out, I could instantly tell that this woman had striking features.
Well, minutes later, we stopped at a bar on Harvard St. near Commonwealth Ave. It was then that I got my first clear look at Stan's date. My heart skipped a beat. She was exquisite (I don't throw that word around lightly). Beautiful!
Throughout the rest of the evening, I couldn't help but steal glances at this gorgeous creature. And, I might add, I sensed that she was actually looking at me. Oh, how I wish I could have held her, danced with her, kissed her; but my motto has always been: "You gotta dance with the girl you brung." I was going to enjoy the evening, as best as possible, with the accountant, my date.
As it now was getting late, we decided to hit one last bar. Oh, about five or ten minutes later, the two women excused themselves to go to the women's room. When they came back, a very surprising development occurred. Sue, the model, asked me if I'd like to dance with her. I calmly said, "Yes." But inside, I was jumping out of my skin. It was a slow dance. I remember holding her lithe body tightly. I was in heaven. It was a moment to remember. A moment to savor.
Well, when our dance was over, Sue sat next to me and the accountant, her name was Joan, sat next to Stan. The girls had worked things out themselves. They had taken the initiative to "play switchies." Oh, how glad I was they did. I remember at the time looking over at Stan. I was afraid he'd be disappointed, but he seemed very content. He would tell me later they he liked Joan but was afraid to initiate a relationship because Joan was responsible for a lot of the business he generated with her company. He thought that if they dated her and things went south, he might lose a big account. But now he told me "it was worth the risk."
As the evening wore down, I remember taking Sue up to her apartment. As we reached her apartment door, she turned toward toward me and I gave her a big kiss. I remember saying something like, "I hope to see you again." I remember her saying, "I hope so, too."
Just then, my mind came back to the present at Fitz's bar in Vegas as the Texan kept up his incessant babbling about us dating showgirls. As he was about to give up at what I think he sensed was a lost cause, I recall him saying, "Now you're sure you've never 'played switchies'." I recall replying, "Come to think of it... There was this one time about forty years ago." But then I quickly added, "I was single then."
As for Sue, the model, I dated her once, but that was it. I would never see her again. Oh, I take that back. About two or three months after I last dated Sue, she was working hospitality at the Sportsmen and Camping Show at Boston's Hynes Auditorium. I would run into her there. But our conversation was brief and matter of fact.
Oh, come to think of it, I did see one more time -- her picture that is --she was modeling dresses for some department store. Her picture appeared in the newspaper. She looked as lovely as I remember her.
In hindsight, I will never forget that one and only time I "played switchies."
But I was single then. Now, at 71, married nearly 45 years with two adult children, "switchies" is not in the cards. Yet, yes, I confess, I did recently "play "switches." At my doctor's behest, I switched from drinking coffee to tea.
Well, the man in the cowboy had who had just jolted me out of state of bliss asked, Mind if I join you?" "Be my guest," I said.
The man with the cowboy hat -- oh I'd put him in his 50s -- began to engage me in conversation. "Where y'all from?" he asked. "Boston," I said. "Oh, yeah, Boston," he repeated. "Been there several times," he said. "Love your seafood," he continued. "What y'all do up in Boston?" he asked. I said, "I'm a recently retired high school history teacher." "History," he said, "that was my favorite subject. The only part I didn't like was when Santie Annie and the Mexicans defeated us at The Alamo. But Sam Houston got'm back. We became the Lone Star Republic."
At that moment I thought he was going to let out with a hoop and a holler, but he didn't.
Well, the talkative stranger continued. "I'm from Texas (as if I didn't know)," he said. "Big 'D'," that's Dallas," he continued (another "dahh"). "It's been so dry the trees are bribin' the dogs. Get it, take a leak." "Yeah, I get it," I said. The Texan then continued, "I work for Schlumbarger; I'm here for an oil drillin' show over at the Convention Center. You've heard for Schlumbarger," he continued. "Yeah, I said," Don't they make mattresses?" (I was just kidding) "No son," he said. "You've musta heard of Haliburton; well, we're in the same business."
Seconds later, The Texan from "Big D" changed gears. He introduced himself, Hey, I'm Dick and your name is...." "Walt," I said. "Walt," he continued, "How'd y'all like to meet some beautiful women?" I said, "I've been married over 35 years. I'm not interested in adulterous relationships." "Come on, son," the Texan said. "I know you Bostonians are prim and proper, but haven't you ever cheated on your wife" Hey, ya know, 'played switchies'. You screw around with one of your wife's friends; your wife has fun with her husband." "Can't say I've done that," I said.
Well, after the Texan takes a few sips of beer, our conversation continues. He says, "Walt, haven't you ever been tempted?" I mean are you some kind of eunuch?" I said, "Frankly, I have been tempted a few times. Once, my wife was out shopping when she asked me to return a portable sewing machine she had borrowed from a neighbor. Well, this woman was very attractive and had a dynamite figure. I rang her doorbell (her husband was at work) and, seconds later, a voice calls out, "Come in." The next thing I hear was "I've just stepped out of the shower. You've caught me in a compromising position." Well, for a moment, a fleeting moment, I was tempted. Severely tempted. But I left the sewing machine in the hall and walked out.
Oh, there was another time I was working at a Boston radio station. One of the women in the sales department looked like Marilyn Monroe. We chatted several times and we had lunch together once, but that was as far as it went. Oh, I must have repressed it; we danced, close -- at a company Christmas party. But that's it."
About this time, the Texan starts selling me on the idea of us double-dating with a couple showgirls he's met. As he continues, my mind begins to wander back forty years to the Kenmore Square section of Boston. At the time, I'm single and living in an apartment near Boston University and I'm teaching history at East Boston High School. As a way of unwinding, I would go to singles bars two or three nights a week. I called my bar visits "recon. missions". I was looking for attractive single women.
That fall night I was at a place called "Lucifer's." Monday nights are usually slow and this one was no exception. Women -- not just attractive women -- were as scarce as hen's teeth. As I recall, I was sitting at the bar sipping on a cold brew when this guy sits down next to me. We strike up a conversation. He introduces himself. His name is Stan. He's an office machinery salesman. He tells me he was at this office equipment show in Boston over the weekend where he met this very attractive model who was working hospitality. He then asks if I'd like to double-date. He wants to fix me up with an accountant who works at one of the companies he calls on. I remember accepting his offer. I give him my telephone number.
Well a week or two go by. My chance meeting with Stan at Lucifer's is fast becoming a distant memory. Then, about two weeks after we met, Stan calls me. Our conversation went something like this: "Walt, it's Stan, the guy you met at Lucifer's. How'd you like to double this Saturday. The model I met at the show is available and the girl I mentioned, the accountant, is interested in meeting you. So what do you say." I said, "Fine." "Pick me up at 7 p.m. Saturday evening (he then gave me his address), Stan says. "How does doing some bar-hopping in Boston sound?" Again, I said, "Fine."
That Saturday, I picked up Stan. We then picked up my date, the accountant, who lived in Cambridge with her parents. I recall that she was quite attractive. She was also very personable. The three of us then picked up Stan's date who lived in an apartment she shared with two other women. I vividly recall that Stan went up to her apartment to get her. They both came down a few minutes later. It was tough to see as it was dark, but from what I could make out, I could instantly tell that this woman had striking features.
Well, minutes later, we stopped at a bar on Harvard St. near Commonwealth Ave. It was then that I got my first clear look at Stan's date. My heart skipped a beat. She was exquisite (I don't throw that word around lightly). Beautiful!
Throughout the rest of the evening, I couldn't help but steal glances at this gorgeous creature. And, I might add, I sensed that she was actually looking at me. Oh, how I wish I could have held her, danced with her, kissed her; but my motto has always been: "You gotta dance with the girl you brung." I was going to enjoy the evening, as best as possible, with the accountant, my date.
As it now was getting late, we decided to hit one last bar. Oh, about five or ten minutes later, the two women excused themselves to go to the women's room. When they came back, a very surprising development occurred. Sue, the model, asked me if I'd like to dance with her. I calmly said, "Yes." But inside, I was jumping out of my skin. It was a slow dance. I remember holding her lithe body tightly. I was in heaven. It was a moment to remember. A moment to savor.
Well, when our dance was over, Sue sat next to me and the accountant, her name was Joan, sat next to Stan. The girls had worked things out themselves. They had taken the initiative to "play switchies." Oh, how glad I was they did. I remember at the time looking over at Stan. I was afraid he'd be disappointed, but he seemed very content. He would tell me later they he liked Joan but was afraid to initiate a relationship because Joan was responsible for a lot of the business he generated with her company. He thought that if they dated her and things went south, he might lose a big account. But now he told me "it was worth the risk."
As the evening wore down, I remember taking Sue up to her apartment. As we reached her apartment door, she turned toward toward me and I gave her a big kiss. I remember saying something like, "I hope to see you again." I remember her saying, "I hope so, too."
Just then, my mind came back to the present at Fitz's bar in Vegas as the Texan kept up his incessant babbling about us dating showgirls. As he was about to give up at what I think he sensed was a lost cause, I recall him saying, "Now you're sure you've never 'played switchies'." I recall replying, "Come to think of it... There was this one time about forty years ago." But then I quickly added, "I was single then."
As for Sue, the model, I dated her once, but that was it. I would never see her again. Oh, I take that back. About two or three months after I last dated Sue, she was working hospitality at the Sportsmen and Camping Show at Boston's Hynes Auditorium. I would run into her there. But our conversation was brief and matter of fact.
Oh, come to think of it, I did see one more time -- her picture that is --she was modeling dresses for some department store. Her picture appeared in the newspaper. She looked as lovely as I remember her.
In hindsight, I will never forget that one and only time I "played switchies."
But I was single then. Now, at 71, married nearly 45 years with two adult children, "switchies" is not in the cards. Yet, yes, I confess, I did recently "play "switches." At my doctor's behest, I switched from drinking coffee to tea.