Mess Mates

Repeated the head, went to the county and revisited Paris in the '20s.

Funniest line of the night: "Do not sit on the sofa!"

Girlfriend finally in tow, we began at Tio Pablo, where one of tonight's specials was beef head.

"That's so you," my friend observed, declining to join me in some head.

"We use the whole cow," our server said immodestly.

Once our food was delivered, our server recommended "head first" and I took her advice.

That, a tongue taco and a glass of Espolon and I was a very happy camper.

I couldn't convince the more conservative eater to join me in tongue either but we happily lapped up guacamole, pinto beans with bacon and pico de gallo together.

The meal was fortification for driving to the Henrico Theater, a place I had been only once, and tonight where Capital Opera Company was performing "H.M.S. Pinafore."

Despite our arrival to masses of people, we were able to score second row seats with a fine view of five life preservers hanging from the stage.

The first-time director spoke about the all-volunteer company, garnering applause to which she responded, "Don't clap yet. You haven't seen it yet."

Good point, although I'd heard several of the performers sing pieces from this show at VMFA a while back.

Tonight was only the company's sixth performance and last of the season.

She said the entire production had been put together in two weeks.

That probably explained why half the cast used British accents (Dick Deadeye even going so far as Cockney) and half didn't.

"Extra grog sent to the company at seven bells!""

And while it was my first time seeing the Gilbert and Sullivan take on naval life, my friend was considerably more savvy.

Seems she'd been part of the chorus of a production of "Pinafore" back in her school days.

It was notable mainly because the performance was outdoors on a hot day and she promptly fainted under a tree, a move the audience took for part of the play.

Horrors!

So while I was mooning over lines like, "Your simple eloquence goes to my heart," she was wondering what happened to her favorite song, "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General," which was conspicuously absent here.

The cast's ages ranged from what looked like middle school to well-seasoned, with the Buttercup and Josephine roles being played by particularly strong actresses.

Leave it to the women, many of whom wore period costumes and fur stoles.

She is the figurehead on my ship of life.

As the play began to wrap up, it felt very Shakespearean, with a three-way wedding to tie up all the loose ends of switched babies, class differences and love.

If only it were that easy in real life.

Our operatic experience was over so early that we decided to go in search of some fun.

We'd both heard about Amour's "Midnight in Paris" party last night, so we made that our destination to see what we'd missed.

The restaurant was still decorated from the party and looked fabulous with sheer white curtains between some tables, a "window" looking out on the Parisian skyline, peacock feathers everywhere, fabric-draped fans and lace curtains in the front window.

We made our way to the back through a lot of diners still eating and found seats at the bar.

The photographer who'd taken pictures of last night's fun happened to be there, so we looked at scads of photographs of customers in period dress, servers with period coiffures and the owner Paul very dapper in a gold brocade vest and bowler.

Clearly we had missed a very good time.

I'd had an inkling since when I got home last night, it was to a message from Holmes and his honey, who were at Amour, and wondering why I wasn't part of the fun.

All I can say is I won't miss the next one and the chance to find some thrift store finery to suit the Jazz Age theme.

The best we could do tonight was partake of the party's signature drink "Midnight at Amour," a refreshing cocktail involving fresh-squeezed orange juice, absinthe, bubbles and who knows what else.

Probably crushed peacock eyes or something.

My girlfriend and I invited others into our circle for conversation, including a guy introduced to me who felt sure I was thinking, "I wonder who this strapping young man is?" about himself, a guy trying to make a long-distance relationship work with a woman in a rabbit hat, and a May-December romance drinking only the best wines.

We took all comers.

But after several rounds of "Midnight at Amour," it was clear that it was time for this ship to sail. I love my mess mate, but even a ship's figurehead has gotta sleep sometime.

And it was long after midnight in Carytown...even if the sun was coming up in Paris.