Just When It Matters Most

The plan was flawless.

A perfect 'Saturday Night Out With Friends' was on the cards. I was especially looking forward to it for two reasons: I love to dance, and I was just done with a techie certi exam that I had cleared Saturday morning with flying colors, and wanted to reward myself with some dance n drink. Two compelling reasons to want to let go, have some fun and hit the dance club.

It was all well planned in my mind. I had a perfect dress for the night, the directions to the best club in town, and made sure I looked perfect after a good workout and a warm shower. I felt like heaven.

At this stage I have got to introduce to the readers my gang, who have a very important part to play in this comedy of errors. I had for company my very interesting friends, who for sake of confidentiality (at their extreme insistence), I will call Mr.Masala, Mr. Hoodie and Mr. IDP. The reason for choosing these names will be evident as you read on.....

The evening started with a plan to catch a movie at the cinemas, followed by dinner out, followed by the much awaited 'hit the dance floors' program of action. We arrived late at the cinemas to start with, so had to settle for a supposedly mediocre movie. The movie turned out to be far from mediocre, on the negative graph. It completely failed to impress. To add to the fact, I was feeling extremely hungry, and my mind wouldn't think of anything other than food, and I didn't let my friends do that either. We left half-way through the movie. At the time it was Mr. Hoodie, Mr. IDP and me trying to deal with the hunger pangs, so we decided to have Mr. Masala give us company. We called him and he suggested we meet at an Indian restaurant in downtown Hartford for dinner. He gave us some vague directions that I had some serious doubts on.

I was hungry, period. My mind wouldn't work. Hartford was a long drive away, and we were lost. If you think nothing can be worse, read on.....

After a 30 minute hunting quest for a restaurant called 'Masala', I was finally sitting behind some 'Tarkori Samosas' and relishing them. The waiter asked me if I wanted a drink, but I told him that I was 'saving that for later' in a very excited tone that was probably inexplicable to him. There were fine Californian wines lying around me, ones that would have gone wonderfully with Indian food, but I resisted my temptations for the sake of tequilas that I thought would follow later that night.

Post food, it was finally time to head for the club. Again, we didn't have directions and Mr. Masala gave us some vague instructions on how to get there. Lost and confused in the crowded and cryptic Hartford streets, I happened to skip a blinking red, and narrowly escaped being hit. As luck would have it, there was a cop right at our heels. His siren went active and we had to pull over. He left me with a warning, and I sighed with relief that I had not had any drinks at the restaurant. It also turned out that we were driving in the completely opposite direction from where we should have been, and the cop was kind enough to guide us to the right path. After leaving us, he was still watching us from his car, and that for some strange freaky reason made me very nervous. I took two consecutive wrong turns and he kept flashing his light at us, indicating 'there you go wrong again!'. My friends were starting to get frustrated with me (can't blame them!), and I vented it all out at them, blaming them for being so insensitive and making me nervous (that's the easiest way out for women, always works!)

Finally we reached the street where the club stood. Only parking was the issue now, we anticipated. We got into a paid park area, and I guess I was still not over the cop incident. While backing up my car into a parking area, I dashed it against the wall (OK, the last time I tried to back park was umm,....ummm....umm...let's leave it at that for now...). It was a rented Subaru and I was insured. But nevertheless the incident left me feeling low. My friends did their best to bring up my spirits, but at such times if there is one thing that can cheer me up, it's music. And music I had! As we approached out of the parking lot, we could hear the thump of music beats from multiple clubs that adorned the Hartford night life. I began to feel good and alive again. I couldn't wait to get on the dance floor and groove to the beats.

(So close, yet so far.....)

We reached the bouncer at the club entrance. He didn't let us in because one of my friends was wearing a hooded tee. Mr. Hoodie was civil enough to offer to stay out while the rest of us get in, but that was not even an option on my list.

Dejected though I was, I decided that the night was still young, and a dance club was not after all a place in Egypt or Hawaii, and not getting there was not such a great deal. I dearly missed being on the dance floor, but what the heck....I was still with my friends....and there were a million other things to do.

We did not get an entry into any of the other clubs/sports bars because one of my friends carried an International Driving Permit (IDP) as the only form of identification, which for some reason was unacceptable at clubs.

By the time we reached Middletown (our home town) my desperation for dance and drink had died down. It was 1 am in the morning. We went over to Mr. Hoodie's place, we played cards, listened to music, talked, laughed and chilled out. We spent the next 3 hours doing almost nothing else but being together, and laughing together about the night's fiascoes. After all, we each had a very major role to play in it! At 4 am, we retired to our respective homes.

I had recently watched a movie called 'Mystery Date', where the first and much anticipated date is ruined by a series of uncalled-for mishaps, and all the while the couple is trying to get out of messy situations. At the end they are frustrated, but then someone tells them that out of their entire lives, this is one night they will always remember.

I wonder...If the movie had turned out to be good, if we had easily found our way to the restaurant, if I had not skipped the blinking red and been stopped by a cop, if I had not taken those wrong turns one after the other while the cop was still watching, if I had not brushed my car against the wall while back-parking, if Hoodie wore a different teeshirt, if IDP carried his passport instead, if we had gotten into the club or bar......would the night have been as memorable? Mebbe not. It wouldn't have earned a mention on my blog for sure!