You Want a Story? I've Got Stories

What a Monday night this turned out to be.

I had been invited to join a friend and her date at Balliceaux for Secretly Y'All's "Tell Me a Story" and even if I hadn't wanted to meet her new beau (and I very much did) I would have gone to check out this potentially fascinating event.

I arrived early enough to warm myself by having a bowl of the spicy pork fideos, a stew of toasted vermicelli, hominy, Chorizo and avocado. With a plate of bread to accompany it, this hearty tomato-based stew had just enough spice to make it addicting.

Just as I was finishing up, my friend and her main squeeze arrived and I got to finally meet the object of her affection. He was charming and interesting; I can willingly give up my last single friend to so worthy a catch.

I surrendered my spot at the front bar to join them in heading to the back room for courageous acts-themed storytelling. I gathered up my jacket and scarf and with water and wine in hand, headed to the back with my cover charge tucked into my hand under the wine.

When I got to the door guy, I told him, "My money's under my wine glass" and released it into his hand. Without missing a beat, he said, "The drugs are in my back pocket." I can always appreciate a wise ass.

We took the best seats in the back room, the comfy 60s-era couch facing the stage. All of us were curious about the evening of storytelling that lay ahead. A chocolate tart helped occupy the three of us as we waited for the show to start.

It was so dense that a couple of pieces shot onto the floor when we tried to break off a bite; fortunately, I have no compunction about eating chocolate off the floor. I felt flattered when her squeeze said "Well played," when I scooped up the floor pieces and popped them in my mouth. Like I care about germs and debris on chocolate?

The room was nearly full of others like us, so clearly we weren't the only ones eager to hear an evening of storytelling. I ran into my new music-loving friend who brought his friends over to join our little group.

The first six storytellers had been pre-screened and their tales were varied. One told of his father, a Republican senator back in the days when Virginia was strictly a Democratic state. During a crucial vote, he had voted outside party lines for the sake of the party. It was hard to imagine such a bold move in these partisan times.

The next was a role-player who described his mock-fighting events as "battle all day, party all night." My friend and I about lost it when he said that. A close second was when he was describing a battle in which his small team was over-matched. "It was like, oh hi, woom-pah!"

There was a bike cop telling tales of the Harvie murders and the capture of the perpetrators. Another was of living in Spain and dealing with a slightly difficult host family where food and toilet paper were severely rationed.

During the intermission, I got in line to use the water closet. While waiting, a guy came up and tried the door. I raised an eyebrow to him and he got the message. "I didn't recognize you as the line," he said sheepishly. Now you know.

After the break, the storytellers came from the audience unscreened. People who had a bravery story to tell had put their names in a hat during intermission with hopes of sharing. Several of these stories turned out to be every bit as good as the pre-screened ones and sounded far less rehearsed.

As someone who likes to share my own stories, I really enjoyed an evening of other people's stories. If the right theme ever presented itself, I might be inclined to tell one of my own. Some of the stuff I can't blog might make a compelling tale told live.

And my friend was right; during the show she had told me that the nearby suit was checking me out. Once my friends were gone, he sat down next to me and said, "So you're finally alone?"

I left Balliceaux after the stories to join a friend's birthday celebration at Bellytimber. His girlfriend was outside when I arrived and she gave me permission to manhandle the birthday boy (a joke based on him asking if he could manhandle me back when he came to my birthday celebration at Ipanema).

Inside were all kinds of friends helping the birthday boy celebrate so I just jumped into the fray. I had pizza from the wood-burning oven, bought my friend a birthday shot of Jameson's and discussed music as the greatest addiction of all.

Once I got home, I got a message from a friend at the party telling me that a mutual friend of ours was "sort of into me" and provided his phone number should I be interested. (Not that that would be an awkward conversation or anything. "Hey, I hear you're sort of into me. Umm...")

Secretly y'all, I can't understand where all this is coming from, but maybe it'll eventually make a good story.

Because I don't already have enough good ones to share. Yea, right.