A Line in the Sand

I recently caused a scene. This isn't any kind of headline news. I'm well known for my scenes. Sadly, not in the world of acting, just in the world of acting-out. They're really more like spectacles. When my Dad used to cause them I called it a Fatty Freak-Out. I'd call mine Husky Havoc but with a few more months of weight loss maybe Slender Psychosis or (with some additional weight training thrown in) A Well Defined Debacle. My ability to create absurd alliteration aside and in defense of my actions, I was being asked to violate one of my long held life rules. Do not stand in line for anything unless you absolutely have no choice. You'd be amazed by how much free time you wind up with if you live by this rule. Also, you will never ever feel ripped off by whatever it is you receive after you've waited so patiently in line for it. I like to call it the Pink's Hot Dog Rule. For those of you that have never lived or vacationed in Los Angeles Pink's is a well known hot dog stand in Hollywood that typically has lines twenty plus people deep in front of it. Having eaten there once I'm assuming these people are all first time diners at Pinks. Otherwise they would know that waiting in this line for the hot dog that comes in the end is a lot like waiting in line to get kicked in the nuts. The best way to avoid the Pink's Hot Dogs in life is to never get suckered into waiting in the line. I have lived by this rule for as long as I can remember. This rule does come with one small caveat - the people you are dinning, drinking, traveling, vacationing, working or living with also have to live by this rule. And that's where we introduce the Husky Havoc.

The Lovely Girlfriend and I were up in the Bay Area visiting my Eventual In-Laws when we all realized I had never been to the world famous Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar in the Fairmont Hotel. The LG and I are big fans of all things Tiki so this seemed like an obvious place to stop before our dinner in the city. What we didn't know is that even though the bar opens at 5pm they don't just "open the bar." No, they make everyone line up outside and seat groups one at a time. When we arrived it was about 5:15 and there were around a dozen people waiting in line. I was immediately wary of stepping into that line. However the Lovely Girlfriend and the Eventual In-Laws assured me that it would only be a few moments before we were seated. Those assurances were uttered just seconds before the couple waiting in front of us heard from their friend who's been sent to scout out the situation the following "it's a forty-five minute wait and it's empty inside." I immediately tried to leave. The LG and the EIL's either didn't hear the comment or wanted to pretend that they didn't hear it. They continued to insist that we would be seated in a matter of minutes. Finally, after many not so hushed deliberations I walked to the front. Sure enough, this famous tiki bar was all but empty. When I asked how long to get seated I was told that if we were at the back of the line it would take about an hour. Well lucky for us we were not at the back of the line! We were two whole groups removed from the back of the line! What a bunch of Rubes bring up the rear. We would be looking at the menu, maybe even ready to place our order by the time they even saw the inside of the place. Lucky us!

I left. The moment the hostess said an hour, I was planning my escape. I walked back to the LG and the EIL's and told them it'd be an hour. I was leaving, they were free to join me. There's got to be another bar around here somewhere. It wasn't until I reached the street did I realize they hadn't followed. I'd just assumed they would. Typically when I walk away from something I'm followed. Often it's by security or management but either way I'm followed. I really needed them to follow me on my walk out as I am not at all familiar with San Francisco and had no real idea where that other bars I'd envisioned would be. As it happened there was another world famous bar right across the street - The Top of The Mark! The penthouse bar at the Mark Hopkins hotel. No line and no waiting, except for the rickety elevator ride to the top. My phone was blowin'up (as the kids call it) with angry text messages from the LG. Angry is a bit too strong, let's call them testy or miffed. Messages to the ilk of "you're a child" and "I can't believe you." I tried to explain to her there are certain rules you set in life and live with forever. Never mix dairy with large amounts of hot peppers. Don't accept a ride from a French Canadian. Don't wait in line for a kick in the nuts.

They waited. And waited and waited. I had two tasty bourbon cocktails, a long look at the San Francisco skyline and a rather dull conversation with some folks from Oregon before they even got seated. All the while I'm sending taunting text messages about how great the view and booze is up here, there's plenty of seats and I'd love for some company. They held strong and waited. I've got to hand it to the EIL's and the LG, the last text told me they were saving me a seat. I paid up (around 14 per drink!) and hustled back over. Sure enough there was the Lovely Girlfriend with a Lava Bowl for two sitting in front of her and an empty straw - if that ain't true love I don't know what is. The line avoided, the scene forgotten. In a large part due to the vast amounts of rum in the punch bowl sized drink in front of her and in a much much smaller part due to the recognition that I am a man with principles no matter how ludicrous. I will not ever wait in line for a kick to the groin. One to the pants with no waiting? Well, that's a different story.