— January 21 —
The story behind these pictures is one of indecision, lack of focus, disappointment and altered plans. And a decent night out anyway.
The afternoon started out with an impromptu committee meeting at a Starbucks across town. Since I was already on that side of town, I went to the Party Store nearby to pick something up. Since I was already at the party store, I asked if they had a 60s costume. Since they offered me a significant discount on the costume, I bought it.
See, I was invited to a “Psychedelic Soiree” tonight, which was an art show/party at an artist’s studio. A guaranteed good time.
Since I was at the Party Store, I decided to go to a New Orleans themed restaurant nearby called Crawdaddy’s, because I don’t get to that side of town very often, or when I do, it’s after 2 and before 4 and they’re not open for for either lunch or dinner. Today, it was 6pm and they were sure to be open. I wasn’t going to eat much, I was just going to sit at the bar and nibble on red beans and rice.
It was terribly difficult to find a parking spot. I parked far away and walked through the snow to the restaurant, only to find when I got to the door that they were packed with parties waiting for tables, and even the bar was double-thick with people. So I left, disappointed.
The Thai place across the street wasn’t crowded. It’s always been my fall-back restaurant whenever I can’t get into Crawdaddy’s, which is always. But tonight, when I imagined what I might order, I remembered that I didn’t like their fresh spring roll sauce as much as some other spring-roll-serving places. I suddenly wanted really good fresh spring rolls very badly. So I headed to the one place I could think of whose spring rolls were consistently good — RuYi, inside the Potawatomi Bingo and Casino.
Talk about busy! Note to self: don’t go to a casino at 6pm on a Saturday night. But the spring rolls were great and I left happy. A bit hungry still, but happy.
I didn’t want to fight the traffic to the freeway so I drove east, toward the neighborhood where I’ve discovered a new favorite bar. It’s called the Bomb Shelter, and they recently made the list of top beer bars in the nation in DRAFT Magazine. They’re always tapping new beers, and since I recently read an article that asked whether beer really bothered gluten-intolerant people, I decided to test the theory and start drinking beer.
I had the Tallgrass Belgian Trippel, I forgot the actual name of it though. The tapper topper was a rooster.
I amused myself with my camera phone apps while I sipped my beer.
And then it was 7:30 and time for the Soiree to start, but I wasn’t dressed up for it even though I was already in the neighborhood of the studio. I consulted with the bartender what she would do if she were me: go to the party dressed as I was, or go home and change. She unanimously agreed 
that I should just go as I was. I said I didn’t know if I’d see any friends there. She said in that case I should have another beer and then go.
I didn’t want to pay for another beer, so I just left for the party. When I got there, I found it difficult to find a parking spot, again. I parked far away, again, and walked through the snow, again, to the door. On my way to the door, I passed several cute young things all dressed up for the Psychedelic Soiree, and by the time I got to the door, and saw the sign that said, “Dress accordingly!”, I chickened out and decided to go home and change first.
Except by this time I really had to go to the bathroom. I figured I’d quick jump on the highway and zip home and be to a toilet in ten minutes.
Except because I was thinking about how badly I had to use the bathroom, I accidentally got on the wrong on-ramp and went SOUTH.
So then I was in a bit of a bind, so I decided to get off at the next exit, in Bay View, and hit up a friendly establishment right off the road for el baño. I passed the Palomino and Club Garibaldi because I’d already settled my mind on a place called At Random, a great little old fashioned cocktail lounge where you can get huge ice cream drinks and imagine Frank Sinatra strolling past your table on his way to meet his Pack.
But it was difficult to find a parking spot nearby. So I finally found a parking spot far away, again, and walked through the snow again and got to the door and went in.
And there was a wait to get a table there, too!!
With no hostess in sight, all the bartenders busy, and a clump of people ready to jump me if I skipped ahead of them, I glanced around for the nearest facilities but only saw the one marked MEN. This was getting urgent.
So I left At Random, left my car parked down the street, walked through the snow another block east, and slipped into a place called the Cactus Club. I’d always seen in my friend Chelsea’s foursquare checkins that it was one of her favorite hangouts, so I figured I’d check it out. Since it was so close, and all. See what the ladies’ room looked like, at least.
The place was definitely much younger and grungier than I am, but the bartender was nice enough. I ordered a small cocktail in exchange for his not saying anything about me bolting in and making a beeline for the bathroom. I listened to a thirty-old-something guy try to pick up a twenty-young-something girl while I sipped my drink, and played with my apps some more.
I think this is such a cool image. It was an experimental mistake. I love it.
And then I left.
And went home to change.
And just stayed home.
I now own an unworn 60s Flower Power costume, deeply discounted.
