Pop star Luba was about to take the stage at Le Spectrum or perhaps Le Club Montreal. Years have passed and with the four, five, or fifteen drinks in my system that evening – it is relatively easy for a forty – five year old memory to sway. For all I know, it may have not been Luba.
I was supposed to meet a lady or as Mick Jagger cleverly dissected; “a friend… “.
The club was filled with both singles and couples along with an air of anticipation. Smoke was above during this ‘politically incorrect ‘ time and the smog ‘s thick glove toyed with my vision as I sought out my pal and soon to be lover.
I was leaning on the bar when the lights descended from ‘inviting ‘ to ‘ atmosphere ‘. Realizing quickly that if I did not move with the speed of a Gazelle – my place for the night’s entertainment was foreshadowing for a morning of discomfort in my lower limbs. Directly in front of me and slightly to one of my sides’, a couple were seated at a table meant for four.
Not wanting to stand for the next two or so hours, I departed the dent in the Mahogany bar and approached the twosome seated at the table.
Doing my best not to tumble into the blonde haired male , I leaned forward and in my best ‘Homer Simpson ‘ voice , I asked the fellow if I may be seated among him and his equally blonde – female companion. The fellow responded affirmatively with a thick accent that was undetectable to me. It was either an accent or the Rum and Cokes were playing with my eardrums.
Without prejudice, my legs and I nodded with much satisfaction as I removed the chair to the man’s left from it‘s shadowy grave and I sat. Triumphant !
In the moments that ensued, I pulled my crumpled cigarette pack from the crevasses of my jacket and removed what would become just another nail in my eventual coffin. Drunk or sober – I am Canadian .Politeness followed and permission was asked and granted for my participation in a dangerous and nasty habit. My tobacco – stained fingers fired up a guilty pleasure and for the next few minutes – alcohol and what is commonly referred to as a ‘ cancer stick ‘ , traded places within the confines of my right hand.
I am friendly by nature so once my ‘ smoke ‘ was extinguished , I leaned toward my new ‘ friend ‘ and – I believe , introduced myself. The dude nodded. The dude smiled. He then leaned toward his partner and whispered into her ear.
The pair‘s paleness were punctuated with blue eyes. The man was not handsome nor was he ugly. The young woman, on the other hand, was very attractive as is any lady to a man who is wearing the gilded frames of alcohol. The pair, after a private exchange, extended their hands in a gesture of good faith.
“They must be Canadian! “ I thought.
Just as the woman and I were on the threshold of introducing ourselves, a dude landed on stage and commenced speaking into a poorly adjusted sound system. To me, the lady sitting across the table possessed the same name given to Charlie Brown by his teacher. The woman, to this moment of time, almost certainly believes that her evening was well spent in the company of a real nice ‘Prick ‘. We smiled and the two of us sat down awaiting the appearance of the evening ‘s star or stars.
As the minutes evolved into blocks of half hours, glances of approval were exchanged between myself, Charlie Brown’s sister and the blonde man who – as much as I could gather, was named after a Japanes drink. Thankfully, music has a way of merging souls as one. If this were not the case, the placement of my inebriated spirit could have been much more uncomfortable.
An hour passed with songs that were notable along with a few experimental tracks. My ‘friend ‘Lise, discovered me and sat down .Her long dark locks complimenting my foot – tapping self. Mr. Brown’s sister and the Chinese beverage were introduced at some point to Lise. Judging from her reaction, confusion may have well been their middle names as the music drowned any chance of a cohesive exchange of words in a vat of sound.
The four of us thoroughly enjoyed the show and we stood in unison to prompt the evening’s entertainment to re – take the stage with an encore. He /she or they reciprocated that feeling. He / she or they returned for what I believe was a two-song addition or one long version of a hit. Either way, everyone in the club had an outstanding time and the room was adorned with smiling – happy people.
The house lights came on revealing blemishes that made some bid a hasty good – bye to what, until then – was a newfound love. Lise and I were quite ready to retreat to such an evening of candles and passion. We shook the hands of our blonde counterparts and I recall thinking that it was too bad that I had not met Charlie’s Sis at a more opportune time. We said our good – byes and proceeded to the lobby where the collection of our coats was the next stride in our adventure.
Mr. China and Mrs. Brown did not accompany us on our excursion and disappeared out of site in an instant. Lise and I made our way through the maze of drunk and not so drunk patrons. I was in the Vestibule, leaning against the wall and insuring it‘s adroitness, when I was approached by a young man who appeared overly – excited. I believe he was wearing an AC / DC T – shirt although I am quite sure that the Heavy Metal band from Down Under were not the main act.
“Man ! Man! “The dude shouted way to close to my on – coming hangover.
“Did you get his autograph? “
“Whose autograph? “ I inquired with about as much enthusiasm as a man awaiting a dental appointment.
“ Saku Koivu !? Did you get his autograph? You were sitting with him…! Do you know him…? “
It took me a couple of seconds to comprehend what the young person was saying. I wondered to myself as I kicked the oncoming cobwebs aside. Did I sit with the Montreal Canadien’s first round draft pick? Was that really him…?
I peered at the little rocker and realized that he was more sober than I was.
“Um…no, I didn’t and…no, I don’t know him…” I responded sounding like Norton from the Honeymooners.
The dude seemed so disappointed as he ran off that I really believed that he was going to cry. I assumed he was on his way to find Koivu and I hoped he did.
Meanwhile, Lise came toward me with our coats in her hand .She noticed the obvious ‘je ne sais quoi ‘on my face and asked what was going on. She also wanted to know who the Angus Young fan was. I explained what transpired with the youngster and informed her of the identity of our tablemates.
Lise, who was not a big hockey fan, just rather shook her head and asked;
“What’s the big deal? “
Welcome home Sake and Charlie Brown’s sister!
Welcome home …