Wooden Swings, Corn Dogs and What I Did for Love

Never commit to a road trip date unless you're sure he's a good conversationalist.

I knew from previous dates that he was, so he picked me up and we hit the back roads going west.

First stop was Satterwhite's for a bite to eat.

I wanted the hot turkey sandwich with gravy and mashed potatoes, but they were out of turkey.

Country music blaring from the radio in the corner, I settled for a club sandwich, described as righteous looking by my date, which it was.

From there we wound through the country to Cooper Vineyards for their Aftershock Sundays, which means nothing more than that they have live music.

Today's was pianist Charlie Kilptarick who provided the soundtrack as we tasted through the wines.

Choosing the Norton reserve 2011, described in the tasting notes  as "exceptional and well-behaved for Norton," we went out to the deck overlooking the pond to start working it down.

With a corner table and a view of the pond and the vineyards, the date was going quite well.

Pleasant as Charlie's music was ("My Dad would have played this music," he observed), we decided to take our bottle and wander the grounds.

We admired the LEED-certified tasting room from all angles, got up close and personal with the low-trellised vines and began walking down toward a grove of trees.

When we spotted two wooden swings, my date said, "We win," as we took the one that had the higher back, prepared to get comfortable.

Nearby was the pet cemetery with the former winery dogs' names on markers over piles of rocks.

It was a gloriously sunny day but we were comfortably shaded by the big, old hardwoods growing over the swing, making it the perfect respite from the crowds on the deck.

Looking back at the tasting room, we talked about their green efforts - water collectors, solar collectors- and segued into a discussion of outdoor showers (hello, Harry) and rooftops water tanks like they have in Barbados.

Like I mentioned, this date is a good talker. So far anyway.

Once the well-behaved wine was gone, it was back on the road again, this time to Doswell for the State Fair.

Driving in to the fairgrounds, a big sign warned that, "General parking, straight ahead. Buses, horses, handicapped, right lane."

Since we were arriving early in the evening, we got slotted into a terrific parking space, no doubt recently vacated by an earlier arrival.

Inside the fair, we wanted nothing more than fair food, animals and maybe to see some blue ribbon winners.

The food was fair, alright.

He'd had his mouth set for Virginia Tech's Block & Bridle lamb-b-cue, but they were out of lamb and told us to come back next Saturday.

Since that wasn't possible, we settled for a rib-eye sandwich from them, a poor substitution.

A huge corn dog was, well, what it was and a fried shrimp combo was plenty good enough.

We ate that at a picnic table overlooking the Triple Crown stage where Redneck Pool Party, a cover band was playing to a scant crowd.

I don't want to be unkind, but they were no Sweet Justice, the cover band I'd seen last night.

And when's the last time I saw one, much less two, cover bands in less than 24 hours?

We wandered around seeing the baby ducks and chicks (where one poor newborn looked close to death), but not able to get close enough to see the racing pigs.

After admiring the giant pumpkins, we sampled local honey, enchanted by the tulip poplar honey, which showed such stellar hints of orange that my date bought a bottle.

Somehow, I even managed to run into a friend who teaches at VCU and the last person I expected to see at the fair.

Just goes to show, you can't judge a fair-goer by their regular life.

We left to the strains of American Idol contestant Casey James singing, as good a reason as any for leaving.

To my date's credit, he drove us home on Route 301, ending a scenic day beautifully.

But what so you do when your date drops you off at 9:30?

If, like me, you've only been up since 11:30 this morning, you get in your car and go to the Ghost Light afterparty for some music and laughs.

The GLAP had been on hiatus for the summer and I'd missed the monthly evening of show tunes, drunken humor and bongos.

When I walked in, Beatbox Annie sold me a ticket, letting me know that I'd only missed the first song.

Well, that was a lucky break.

Naturally, I headed to the bar to get some wine only to find lots of pretty people there and soon found myself chatting like I was at a party. Which I was.

I arrived in my usual seat just in time for Jason and Scott to do "We Can Do It" from "The Producers," a rip-roaring way to start my GLAP evening.

Although I've seen Scott in scads of plays over the years, he'd never been to GLAP before and he was a natural.

Despite the summer break, everyone fell back into their GLAP mindset easily.

A song would begin and someone would pick up maracas, a tambourine or even the bongos and begin playing along unsolicited.

Interpretive dance abounded.

Before we heard "I Need a Hero" from "Footloose," which played at Dogwood Dell this summer, host Maggie got off on a tangent about how fish sandwiches from Croaker's Spot are now available at the Dell, which somehow led to a recent news item about large, testicle-eating fish.

That's a perfect example of how GLAP works. Insanity.

Tonight's best dressed singer had to be Matt, wearing a pink shirt and salmon-colored blazer, who sang "Look Over There" from "La Cage aux Folles."

It was shortly thereafter that host Matt spotted me in the second row, called hello from the stage and announced I was in the house and how fabulous I looked.

All this can be yours, too, with regular attendance.

He also did a terrific rendition of "Wicked Little Town" from "Hedwig and the Angry Inch," pausing between verses to kneel down to where his drink sat on a stool and take a sip through a straw without missing a beat.

The talent knows no bounds at GLAP.

Intermission came early and the pizza arrived late, so there was lots of time to mingle.

I met Princess Di's Prince Charming, got quizzed about my attendance for the Artsies and got invited to a wine and art party.

And ate a couple of slices of pepperoni pizza.

The second act began with the inimitable Georgia who played nervous almost well enough to be believable before breaking into a kickass, full-on version of "Alexander's Ragtime Band."

The cast of "Pop! Who Shot Andy Warhol" came out and apologized in advance, saying, "We haven't rehearsed this since we closed."

"Why would you?" shouted out some comedian before they did the showstopper, "Big Gun."

There were jokes tonight, too.

What did the mermaid wear to math class? An algae-bra.

Why do gay melons hate Virginia? Because they can't elope.

"Too soon!" another comedian yelled.

During a momentary lull, Matt came up, saying he'd been told to storm the stage, as if you can do such a thing in a salmon-colored blazer.

His intent was to do a little R & B ("This is the Last Time I'll Fall in Love"), made even better when Grey went onstage and began to pantomime the woman he was singing about.

Unsolicited, I might add.

At one point, host Matt got on stage, drink in hand, and announced to no one in particular, "If you're thinking of leaving now, that's a really bad idea."

Terry, a self-admitted GLAP virgin, did "What I Did for Love," nearly sending Princess Di into paroxysms of ecstasy,

Evan dedicated Jimmy Eat World's "May Angels Lead You In" to a friend he lost last year, leaving nary a dry eye in the house.

He also closed the show, leading an all-star cast doing Britney's "Hit Me Baby One More Time," just as I knew he would.

Oh, baby, baby, how was I supposed to know?

Thank god GLAP is back in town to provide this kind of killer evening again.

By the time the party ended, I'd still only been up eleven hours, but all good things must come to an end.

If only my key had worked in the front door, that would have ended my night.

Instead, that was me, knocking on my neighbor's bedroom window at 1:30, looking for assistance.

Some nights you need a hero. Boom.