Lori's Ex-Hubby

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The names of places—of restaurants and places—if I only visit them once, their names almost always escape me. This is also true of people I’ve only met once. Typically, it takes two or three visits for a name to stick. (And to think of the piss-poor shape my memory’ll be in when I’m twice my current age!) Point is, we went to a place for carnivores for what’s-his-name’s bachelor party. (Lori is a vegan, by the by.) Along with a fork, knife, plate, napkin, and water glass, each diner gets their own circular cardboard card.* One side of the card is red and the other side is green. Somebody explains how it all works and then the servers surround you with various forms of cooked meat. They’ll keep carving it up and heaping it onto your plate until you flip the green side of your card over to its red side. After all that—which is to say, after scarfing down way, way, way too much meat—we drove over to a flashy bowling alley in Streeterville where they charge you five bucks for a BOTTLE of Guinness. And guess what we didn’t do? That’s right, we DIDN’T bowl. We just sat in a swanky lounge until somebody got sick of paying way too much for beer. Finally, we wound up at a dive bar that “used to be for lesbians” somewhere on the west side of Chicago. (By the by, Lori swings both ways.) None of us did the karaoke thing. I suggested a strip club, but it didn’t happen.† 

14 April 2006 

*[Was there a spoon? Not that I recall. By the way, before leaving the meat eater’s paradise, I pocketed my red/green card. I believe it's currently sitting in a shoebox full of other crap on a shelf in my coat closet.] 

†[The marriage didn’t last a year. When you’re stopped by a cop on the way to the bridal suite, that’s a bad omen. Why were they stopped? I don’t recall. I must’ve made a note of it somewhere. Anyway, months after the wedding, what's-his-name cheated on Lori with the woman I was kinda-sorta having a fling with at the time.] 

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