Friday, March 18, 2005

Not your average night out

Last night I went to a rather enjoyable little piano bar in Oakland called The Alley. The pianist knows every golden oldie ever written and patrons sit around the grand piano and sing along. He only plays pre-1960 though - so no Beatles. I sang When Irish Eyes Are Smiling (in honour of St Patrick's Day), and my friend S. got us to sing Loch Lomond for the same reason. I had to point out that at the top it said a traditional Scottish song. One guy sang The Teddybears' Picnic and was so surprised that I knew the lyrics. It was all lots of fun and it reminded me of all the singalongs my family used to do when I was growing up.

Anyway, at about midnight my friend E. turned up on her bike, having cycled from the BART (metro). We didn't think it would fit in my car, so D. decided to cycle to a pub a little bit closer to Berkeley, and then the rest of us would follow in the car. He got there 10 mins or so later, got his friend to order a couple of pitchers of Guinness, and sat outside with the bike (he didn't have the lock) to wait for us. At which point I rang him.

"You idiot", I said. "You have my car keys."

"F*ck!" he said, and then he burst out laughing.

30 minutes later we were still waiting by my car. Turned out he got hideously lost and cycled through the hills of Oakland totally disoriented and crossed the freeway twice. By the time he finally found us, out of breath and barely able to walk, the bar with our pitchers of Guinness had closed. With the help of some handy safety barrier tape (you know, the kind that says Danger, Do Not Enter) that was around a nearby pothole or something, we managed to get the bike and all four of us in the car.

And finally, we managed to find a pub with Guinness that stayed open after 1am, so we had a quick one there. The whole time D. kept on doing pathetic little coughs as if to remind us of the great ordeal he had just been through.

Oh how we laughed.