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Just unlock the doors, so I can open mine. Start the car and don’t stare, baby.”
At 8:53 PM on New Years Eve my cell phone beeped with a new text message. It was from The Phone Sex Operator (P.S.O.) and it simply said “On my way to you!” She arrived a short time later and we kissed our hellos and she asked if I had put up the new Sex and the Single Dad (Truth in Advertising). I told her that I had and she sat down at my laptop to read it. I offered her a drink and went to the kitchen to grab her some vodka. I pulled the bottle of Three Olives from the freezer, poured some and handed it to her as she was working her way through the piece. I made myself a Jack and Coke and patiently waited, watching for her reaction.
She snickered at one point, turned to me and asked, “The misfortune of meeting, huh?” “Yeah,” I replied with a laugh. She continued on and she slowly went from snickering to flat out laughing. When she finished, she told me she enjoyed it and we sat for a few minutes and chatted about our respective days as we finished the drinks.
We walked out in a light snow to my car and headed down the street to a small local joint called the Garden Park Café. P.S.O. wanted to go out for some karaoke and this place was close to home and featured it seven nights a week. Neither of us had been there, so we figured it was our New Years Adventure!
I had never sung karaoke in my life and I often said, “There is not enough booze in the bar to get me to stand in front of people and sing.” Which is kind of funny because I have absolutely no qualms about sitting in front of a radio mic and singing along with a song on the air. Usually I butcher the song and Wes (my co-host) sits there laughing at me. But that is different. Don’t ask me how. It just is. Anyway…I swore I would never do karaoke, but somehow I figured that not only would P.S.O. not laugh at me, but also she would actually throw me some street cred for doing it.
We arrived and made our way inside and back to the bar where we found a dozen or so people talking with their friends and having a good time. We grabbed two stools at one end and when the bartender came to take our order, P.S.O. whipped out her card and announced that the night was on her.
There was a band playing from 10-midnight and then karaoke would start. We knocked back a few drinks as we asked questions and got to know each other a bit more. Somehow, nearly every answer ended with the two of us laughing at something.
As 2010 approached, glasses of champagne were set in front of each person and as the guitar dropped at the Hard Rock Café in Niagara Falls, we looked at each other and kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I’m not sure how long we kissed, but I do know that the people next to us were in mid-conversation when our lips finally separated. We each made a comment about wanting to do this again next year and just like that, I started 2010 off with a beautiful, wonderful woman in my life.
Karaoke time came and she grabbed the book and picked out a few songs that she wanted to sing. She turned in her slips as I looked through the book. I totally wanted to do something, yet didn’t know what I wanted to sing. I think she sensed my fear because she asked about doing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee. She said that she would sing with me, if I wanted her to. “Cool,” I replied. Secretly relieved.
She sang a couple of songs, and then it came our turn. There were close to 50 people in the bar at that moment. We started singing and I kid you not—we weren’t ¼ of the way through when people started going outside to smoke. I don’t think that many people in there really smoked, and I feel bad if I caused anyone to light up for the first time. A little more than halfway in, P.S.O. whispered that she had to pee really bad. I looked up and saw that there were about 8 people remaining in the room and not one of them was paying attention to us. She scurried off to do her business.
When she arrived, she was told that some drunk guy had locked himself in the bathroom. She came back across the room and said that we needed to go back to my house NOW because she had to pee!!!
I said, OK, but suggested she use the men’s room. It was a one-seater and I promised to stand guard right outside the door. She agreed and we tried to burrow our way through the crowd, but there was no way we would be there anytime soon. We almost forgot about closing out the bar tab and when she ran to the bar to pay, she figured out that the premium vodka she wanted was the same price as the cheaper well vodka that she had been drinking. “Next time I know,” she said to herself. She signed the receipt, then turned and looked at me.
“To the car!” She announced. And we were out the door. At some point on the way out I asked what she was going to do and she said, “pee in the parking lot. I can do this. No problem.” As we neared the car I rounded my side and asked what she needed me to do. “Just unlock the doors, so I can open mine. Start the car and don’t stare, baby.”
I followed her instructions and in a couple of moments she was standing up and climbing into the car, I looked at her with a goofy smile on my face. That was funny. Pretty damn hilarious, actually. Here was this classy lady, dressed in nice boots and she just wizzed in the parking lot! “And,” she said with a grin, “Not a drop on the boots.”
We pulled out of the parking lot and went back to my place. What happened after that is, and will remain, none of your damn business!
J.R.
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