In The Dark Of Night.

It was midnight and I was restless. Earl was sleeping peacefully in bed, ‘rattling’ away on cue with his sweet snores of slumber. The sounds of a rain storm was making its presence known on the roof. And I wasn’t in the mood to go to sleep.

What to do.

According to my parents, when I was a baby I didn’t sleep very well until they took me for a ride in their VW Beetle. A quick trip to the village and back and boom, I was asleep.

I guess an Acura RSX will work just as well.

I took a drive to downtown and back. I drove through the two “nightlife” areas and confirmed my suspicions. It’s damn disappointing trying to party on a Saturday night around here. There’s one gay bar, and when I drove by there were a bunch of surly lesbians in front of it. I don’t mean to offend, but I don’t really want to go to a bar full of surly lesbians. It’s ironic to think that when the local Air Force base was open, there were five gay bars here.

The two big(?) hotels had the unmistakeable signs of proms in session. A bunch of limos and young men and women dressed to the nines walking out front. For some odd reason I was reminded of trick or treating. Perhaps it was their choice of attire.

I then drove down Varick Street – the area touted to be full of nightlife, where that Mr or Miss Right is just waiting for you, parallel parked over a dixie cup of cheap draft beer at one of the handful of nightclubs along here. The city is investing a bunch of money into revitalizing the area. It’ll be a prettier arena for all the fistfights when they’re done, apparently.

So I headed back home, finally sleepy, ready to call it a night. I ponder if I’m sleepy because of the driving around or because of the lack of enthusiasm I found while I was out prowling. It’s not that I’m getting old, because we do enjoy going out from time to time. It’s just that at midnight on a Saturday night, Syracuse is too far away to drive on a whim. It takes some planning to coordinate an enjoyable night out, and we’re more of the spontaneous type.

Wake me up when it gets exciting again.

Typical Conversations.

Him: “I hate it when you buy that Tom’s of Maine stuff. The toothpaste tastes terrible.”
Me: “I didn’t buy Tom’s of Maine toothpaste.”
Him: “I just used it upstairs, in the tube lying next to your sink.”
Me: “That’s shaving cream.”
* * *
Me: “I miss Lechmere. Do you remember shopping at Lechmere? Pure heaven. Now we’re stuck with Best Buy and Circuit City. Blech. And while I’m ranting, I miss Hills too.”
Him: “I know, I know.”
* * *
Me: “Is it true that Jon Bon Jovi didn’t do drugs.”
Him: “I’m pretty sure he was clean.”
Me: “Do you think Valerie Bertenelli did drugs with Eddie Van Halen?”
* * *
Me: “Is that guy real shrill?”
Him: “He’s more Kathy Najimy than Lily Tomlin.”
Me: “I guess he’s definitely not a Bea Arthur, then.”
* * *