On Saturday, my sister Pens Fan/Tammy and I took our seven-year-old sons to see a Musical Christmas Carol at the Byham and three notable things happened.
1. From start to first intermission, I understood exactly three words, “Chickens!” and “Bah humbug.” And since I’m not sure bah and humbug are actual words, let’s just say I made out one word. That’s a fun, frustrating as hell time.
2. Our sons never once noticed the naked ladies painted on the ceiling. I’m a bit disappointed because I was really watching closely to see that first wave of, “OMG. BOOBIES!” wash over their cute little faces. Never happened because they were so engrossed in their Sqworms and Sour Patch Kids.
3. When we arrived, I beelined to the bar and said to the bartender, “I am going to ask you the weirdest question you’ve been asked in a long time. Do you have any Zima back there?”
And he didn’t laugh at me or guffaw or make a joke about 1990 calling or about 1992 paging him or anything. The only perceptible change I saw in him was that both of his eyebrows suddenly became very high, curious arches of pleasant surprise and he said, “Yes, we do!” clearly so excited to finally find a human being willing to shell out $4.50 for what was probably a two-year-old bottle of tangerine Zima.
Here I am, holding my first Zima in almost a year:
Yes, those very may well be tears of joy reflecting in my eyes.
THANK YOU, SANTA!