The Mystery Visit Trip Report

Monday, Jun. 28, 2004 - 9:06 a.m.

About six weeks ago, at the beginning of May, my regular readers will recall that Dave Marron tried to telephone me so I could hear him work. John picked up the phone, assumed it was one of his own friends pranking him, and hung up.

That incident bothered all three of us a lot.

I decided the only thing to do was go down and listen to Dave in person.

At the bar where he works.

Without telling him I was going to visit.

As a surprise.

And John, bless his penitent little heart, agreed wholeheartedly with my plan.

---

You can do a lot of travel planning online these days. You can even print out your boarding pass for your flight, and make guaranteed reservations for a hotel room. Since I personally do not use credit cards, my dastardly co-conspirator aka my husband was the facilitator. About two weeks ago, right after I got back from Colorado, John logged on and we booked my flight through Southwest, and a room nearby through Hotels.com.

In contrast to Colorado, where I had been squired around for the entirety of the trip -- this time I planned to be getting around on my own. This was going to cost me, and I knew that, and I'd been thinking about the expenses in that regard. Just when I was considering borrowing a hundred dollars from the household, I was digging around in my altar to get a book -- and three hundred dollars that I had set aside for Colorado and forgotten about fell from an altar shelf. I'd just been to Fanime Con as a dealer a few weeks earlier and set that money aside and forgotten about it.

So the found money was wonderful. It ended up disappearing rapidly, but it was still a tremendous help.

The plans were booked, the confirmations emailed to me, and all I had to do was bide my time and wait.

---

Meanwhile, Dave Marron and I continued to run into one another online. We chatted a little bit once in awhile, and every so often I would mention how unfortunate it was that I had not been able to hear him sing that night he had tried to arrange it.

Dave was always very reassuring. "That's okay," he would say. "We'll try again another time."

---

Friday, June 25.

I told Dave that morning that I was going to need to abbreviate our regular co-virtual viewing of Pretender; I told him I had some things to get taken care of and that I wanted to get them done and out of the way so I could enjoy the rest of my Friday. He was nonplussed and said it would be no problem to conclude our morning visit a little early.

Then I finished packing.

Then John drove me to the airport. He and I were both chuckling up our shirtsleeves at the thought of how surprised Dave was going to be.

---

The flight was lovely, and on time, and I decided I wanted a window seat after all. I arrived at John Wayne International Airport at around two in the afternoon. I caught a cab to my hotel -- which by the way has become -prohibitively expensive- in California due to the gas prices and whatnot -- and checked in. Because I don't use credit cards, the hotel required a fifty dollar cash deposit for incidentals, which I was not expecting. They'd give it all back, but that meant I didn't have the cash to utilize while I was there.

But that was okay.

I rested, ate a snack, and then got ready. I wore a black v-neck blouse, a pair of jeans that has only recently fit again, and my favorite black sandals. I curled my hair, put on a little war paint but not too much, made sure I had my room key, and then left again.

---

My next part of the adventure was hailing a cab again.

That turned out not to be a problem. The problem was that the bar where Dave plays is approximately a half hour away from the motel.

The first digit of my cab fare was a 5.

But the driver was friendly and quick, and did what I said, and was really tickled with the part he was playing in my surprise.

---

At my request, I was dropped off about three blocks from the bar, in case Dave was arriving at the same time I was. The night was warm but not muggy, and the leisurely walk to Cero's had a calming effect on my nerves.

I knew what I was going to do, and how I was going to do it.

I walked into Cero's, and found a place not far from the entrance to sit, and just observe my surroundings. It's a small and friendly place, with lots of atmosphere, and candles on the table, the air redolent of beer and cologne. There were people of all ages -- and this night, it was full of the kind of energy that the people in the neighborhood bring to a bar on a Friday evening after work. I knew Dave began work at nine. He is the drummer for the house band.

I ordered a Diet Coke, which was the only thing I had to drink all evening -- and looked over at the stage.

For the first time in fifteen years, I was in the same room as my friend.

He was up on stage, adjusting his drums and setting up the microphones and seeing after the amplifiers and whatever other folderols he does before he begins work. It was about fifteen minutes to nine. Meanwhile, I struck up a conversation with one of the patrons sitting next to me. She was very enthusiastic about the proceedings, and I think she enjoyed watching it all unfold. I told her of my plan.

I watched Dave put on his drummers' gloves. Then I saw his other band members walk in. I literally couldn't stand it anymore -- my heart was racing and a million things were in my head to say to him -- so I called -his- cell phone from -my- cell phone.

Up on the stage, I could hear his phone ring. I watched him walk over and answer it. "Dave!" I said. "Brin? Hiee!" was his response. "What can I do for you?" The other members of his band looked up, and I heard him say "Bob, it's Brin, you remember her?..." and I saw Bob smile.

"Oh, I just wanted to call and say hi and that I was thinking of you. You at the bar?"

"Yes, I am. Setting up my kit."

"Oh, okay," I said. "Remember that time about six weeks ago when you called me and couldn't sing to me? I've been thinking we should remedy that pretty soon." The woman I had been talking with gloomped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Yeah, we should," he said.

"Well, listen," I said, "I know you have to keep getting ready, but I have a question for you before I hang up."

"Yes?"

And I took a deep breath and said "Dave?...Why are you wearing gloves?"

"Oh, these are called 'drummer's gloves...' wait a second." Suddenly, Dave's body language changed. "How did you know I have gloves on?" I saw him lean over and show the phone to his band mates and gesticulate frantically.

Then I laughed. "And Dave? That's a nice shirt you have on. You look really wonderful in blue."

And then Dave's body language -really- changed. "Oh my GOD," he said. "You're HERE. Where ARE you? Get up here NOW."

At this point I was on the verge of jumping off of the bar stool anyway out of sheer nervousness, so I said "Wait right there," and hung the phone up.

The rest, as they say, is history. I watched him looking for me. I walked across the dance floor. I addressed him by his stage name, he caught sight of me, jumped off the stage, and just like in the movies, we stepped forward and embraced and laughed and laughed some more and just beheld one another in that magic disbelief. "What are you DOING here? Oh my GOD!"

He steered me over to his other bandmates, and one of them, Bob Chance, remembered me from the last time I had seen Dave sing in person. That was in 1989 when I had gone to see Dave for his birthday in February of that year. Bob gave me a big hug.

Dave stepped out of the bar for a moment to cross over to the service station to purchase the two items he used for fuel every night; a large bottle of Diet Pepsi, and a package of beef jerky, and I went with him. We were only semi-articulate with each other, still enjoying the initial glow of the surprise. He kept expressing disbelief. "You're really here. I just don't believe it."

No, I am here. This is real. Please believe it, my friend. Seize this moment and do not let go.

I looked at Dave and said "Okay, I have been unable to find your wife in this crowd here; where is she, please?" and Dave said something that makes me think the gods do indeed have a sense of humor -- "Candi's not here. She's not even in TOWN."

"You mean I've come all this way and I don't get to meet the missus? Arghghghh! The surprise is on me after all... I guess you'll do," I said to Dave, which made him smile.

We walked back to the bar. Whenever Dave passed somebody he knew, he would stop, introduce us, and tell them where I'd come from. ("Can you believe this? She flew in from San Francisco tonight as a surprise just to see me and the band! She's going home tomorrow morning!") But eventually of course, Dave had to get back onto the stage and begin work -- so I relocated to a table where I could see him best. The other person at the table where I was sitting turned out to be a really sweet man. Richard, one of the regulars, is a retired police officer. He wears a black cowboy hat with a jeweled hatband, has silver hair, carries a bag of Tootsie Rolls, plays a tambourine, nursed nothing stronger than a Coca-Cola for the duration of the evening, and is in a wheelchair. In short, he is a Quintessential Character. "It's been a long time since a pretty lady sat at the table with me," he said. I looked him over and said "I don't believe that; you have a cool hat and your own set of wheels; what's not to like?" Needless to say, we hit it off immediately. By the end of the evening, his friend Sam was coming around and saying stuff like "Hey, introduce me to your fiancee!"

Bob, the man with the microphone, mentioned me by name and welcomed me. Then the music got underway. The band is really very nice, and excellently tight and polished; they play a wide variety of things all the way from the fifties to the eighties. Dave is one of the vocalists in the band; he is also their drummer. He was superb, and he's never. had. a. lesson. He just decided one day that he wanted to learn the drums, and bought a kit and away he went. So few people are blessed with natural ability when they decide they want to learn something; Dave is a very lucky man.

The music is very danceable, and I was surprised by a tap on the shoulder by a distinguished fellow named Martin. He is one of Bob's oldest friends. We danced several times, which surprised me on two levels, firstly that anybody would bother asking me to do that at all because I didn't know anyone there, and second, my ability to actually get up and dance without becoming tired has dramatically increased. Lots of things changed since the weight loss, and I keep discovering new aspects every so often.

Richard's friend Sam also asked me to dance. He was wearing bermuda shorts, sneakers, and the most astonishing Hawaiian shirt I have seen in a very long time. He's got a kind face and a very cool haircut and he's very funny. "So let me get this straight," said Sam at one point, when we were out on the dance floor, "You're married. You're Dave's best friend. And now you're 'engaged' to Richard."

"Yes, I believe that's correct," I said.

"I gotta ask," said Sam. "Who are you gonna have sex with tonight?"

Since I was several hundred miles away from my husband, I told Sam the truth. "Myself," I said. This rendered Sam temporarily inarticulate. But thankfully, it was only temporary.

I was surprised at the number of people who were -not- drinking. Dave does not drink. I no longer drink. I'm pretty sure I didn't see Bob drink, either. Sam asked me why I didn't drink, and I said "Well, I have this strange idea in my head that I'm actually supposed to pay attention to my surroundings and remember the people I talk to during the course of an evening, so I choose not to drink." He thought that was cool. He also listened to a lot of my existential bullshit as well, mostly having to do with the Family Of Choice / Family Of Chance stuff.

The people I interacted with made me feel very welcomed and wanted there. I wasn't just sitting alone while other people were pursuing their individual pleasures. It was definitely a group experience. The band was particularly special in that if anybody wanted to come up and try and sing something, and the band knew the tune, they'd play it while the person sang. Dave and Bob handled the majority of the vocals, but there were a few in house special guests who just got up and had themselves some fun.

On Dave's first break, he came over and sat at the table with me; we talked, and he offered me some beef jerky and asked me about my trip, and when he heard how much I paid for the cab, he hit the roof. "OHHHHH noyadon't; I'm taking you to wherever you need to go after this."

I was concerned about his driving so late, and I said "I have to get back to my room, and then I have to be at the airport by eight o'clock Saturday morning, and I have enough money to get around if I have to..." but Dave was hearing none of it and insisted on taking care of both of those drives. I trusted him to be timely and know where everything was, because he used to drive a tow truck, which often ends up doubling as a taxi service for whoever's car has broken down.

This made me worry a little less about the monetary issue, so I went up and sneaked some money into the band's tip jar.

Richard went home at midnight, and Sam and Martin faded a little after that. I had brought a camera with me, and I asked to have my picture taken with Dave and was obliged. So, thanks to Bob and Other Dave, I now have pictures of The Mystery Visit. They're on the same camera as my family reunion photos -- which now upon reflection, is entirely appropriate.

We arrived back at my hotel at around a quarter past two; he merely slowed down and let me out, with a promise of a return at seven thirty the next morning.

I got into the room, deglamorized, set my phone's alarm for six thirty to allow for a seven thirty exit from the room -- and slept from three to six am.

---

Saturday June 26

Adjectives that could have been applied to the first glimpse of the dawn's early light are eluding me. Probably on purpose.

I got up, showered, got packed, and was ready to leave by seven thirty.

Dave showed up, looking far more bright eyed and bushy-tailed than he should have for the amount of sleep he was missing so he could take me to the airport. I have no idea where he finds his energy.

I checked out, and thankfully my deposit was returned. We got to the airport in about twenty minutes, and at the last minute in the drop-off area, I took a picture of us with the camera that is in my cell phone.

The picture didn't turn out half bad, as you can see.

We said goodbye, and again I was so grateful for the fact that David was gracious and good natured at this hour; if my math is correct, he missed at least an hour of sleep, but there was not a word of complaint, which humbled me. We had managed to talk and have a really nice visit during his breaks and while we'd been in the car.

Meanwhile, I was dreading my check-in. I had not been able to print out my Saturday ticket before I left for the trip; all I had with me was a photo ID and a confirmation number that I'd memorized. But I walked in to the airport and got in line and when I explained my predicament to the person behind the Southwest counter, she was reassuring, and after looking at my ID, simply issued my boarding pass and gave me my gate number and that was that.

I then went and purchased a postcard to send to Todd Thalimer, and that's when I made the unfortunate discovery that John Wayne International Airport does not have a mail-drop. Oh well. Sorry about the San Francisco postmark, Toddy, but at least now you see where I was. Oy.

I managed to get a window seat for the return flight as well, and was struck by the beauty of the central valley farmlands. I had never really gotten a detailed look at them from the air before.

John found me when I landed; and he took me to breakfast at Denny's in Pacifica so I could relax and unwind.

The rest of Saturday afternoon was spent catching up on Diaryland and letting my friends know I had returned from my Mystery Visit.

---

In October, on the occasion of our next wedding anniversary, John and I are both going to Anaheim. And we have invited Dave and his wife Candi to be our guests when we go to Disneyland. More than ever, I believe the four of us will have a magnificent time. I cannot wait to meet Candi, and I am eager for John to meet Dave as well.

Anyway, that's about it. I had a great visit this time around.

---

what you missed - what's next - leave a note
first post - cast page - diaryrings - top ten

THE LEGAL STUFF: All content on this site that was created by me is copyright 2003-infinity by Brin Marie McLaughlin. Steal my stuff and I'll squash you like a bug. All incoming email or any other form of communication with me is subject to publication or other distribution by me in whole or in part at my sole discretion. This diary features the sole opinions and experiences of one person, namely me, the person who is paying for this space. In the interest of safety and accountability, no anonymous input will ever be allowed here, ever, for any reason in the entire history of ever. Whenever there is a comments section appearing in this diary, it's to be considered part of my paid presence on the web, and shall be used by my readership to supplement the things I have written here with relevant information in a polite manner. Comments that do not fall in that category are subject to deletion at my whim. Your visit to my diary along with your use of my comments section constitutes the understanding of this statement. Anything else on these pages including any comments belongs to whoever created it. All external links are current as of the date of the entry in which they are first featured, but at no other time. News excerpts used here are for educational purposes and are permitted under the Fair Use Doctrine. Hold hands when you cross the street, and play nice.