We nearly never go out, just the two of us. Life doesn't make it easy. Henry's favorite babysitter is spending the summer in India (the hazards of employing smart college students). The going rate for a babysitter these days practically requires us to take out a second mortgage. And lately, we've been opting for date night at home -- put the kiddo to bed, pop the cork on a bottle of wine, and cook -- one of our most favorite things to do before we had the child in the first place.
But it had been too long, so we called the high school daughter of a friend of ours to watch H, and we hit the town. It didn't start out too sexy. Red Lobster. After a heaping helping of seafood, Cheddar Bay Biscuits (in which we believe they place some sort of illegal and highly addictive substance), and cocktails (including Tim's vat of wholelottacoladalamadingdong, or whatever was the drink that took up a quarter of our table), we were ready to continue our night out downtown.
Going downtown to a nighttime music venue (i.e.: BAR) usually makes us feel nothing but old. However, we made a delightful little discovery: The Piano Lounge. It's tucked in behind a Japanese restaurant and requires a long walk down a narrow, dark alley, but it's Iowa City. What's the worst someone would do? Puke on your shoe? Or ask you to petition for Greenpeace?
Tim took advantage of $3 Bacardi mixers, while I drank an overpriced and slightly-too-warm glass of Pinot Noir because they were out of the Port I first ordered. While the drinks weren't anything to shout about, the musician was.
Sean Boarini, 2007 UI graduate and one damn fine piano player, has a raspy, bluesy voice and what appeared to be an ability to not take himself too seriously. And wow, did he have a repertoire. His list of tunes while we were there included: Lady Madonna by the Beatles, Desperado by the Eagles, Anyone Else But You (that Juno song that the kids sang at the end), The Way You Look Tonight by numerous lounge lizards, Nightswimming by REM (that one prompted us to applaud, even though at the time we were the only people in the joint), Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash, Where oh Where Can My Baby Be? by Pearl Jam (I'm not sure that's really the name of it). He even impressively pounded out a request of Meat Loaf's I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) even though he sheepishly said he didn't know any Meat Loaf and added, "Isn't that embarassing?" We stayed over an hour, and things had just started hopping when we left. I could've stayed all night.
Several great things about this place: first, we were among the youngest people there. I swear, it looked like an AARP convention. Second, NO SMOKE! Iowa's brilliant no smoking laws extend to bars now, so we didn't come home smelling like an ashtray. Third, we joked about how many times this poor guy must be asked to play Billy Joel's Piano Man, then later found out that he charges a $10 minimum fee to request that song.
And fourth: Ryan. You see, it was Ryan's birthday. We didn't actually know Ryan, but the two ditzy chicks with him were showing him a good time and entertaining everyone else in the process. One of the girls, wearing a low-cut mini-dress and stiletto heels, marched herself right up to the piano and made her request -- but only after making her drink order, loudly, at the exact moment Sean stopped playing: "I want a drink with a dirty name."
We all sang Happy Birthday to Ryan, then sat back to enjoy the song his girls dedicated to him. Sean started tickling the ivories, then we all got way beyond tickled when he belted out, "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls. Yes, it's about exactly what you think it's about. And it made me laugh so hard I almost fell off the barstool.
We found out this is Sean's regular gig. Maybe we'll become regulars, too.
But it had been too long, so we called the high school daughter of a friend of ours to watch H, and we hit the town. It didn't start out too sexy. Red Lobster. After a heaping helping of seafood, Cheddar Bay Biscuits (in which we believe they place some sort of illegal and highly addictive substance), and cocktails (including Tim's vat of wholelottacoladalamadingdong, or whatever was the drink that took up a quarter of our table), we were ready to continue our night out downtown.
Going downtown to a nighttime music venue (i.e.: BAR) usually makes us feel nothing but old. However, we made a delightful little discovery: The Piano Lounge. It's tucked in behind a Japanese restaurant and requires a long walk down a narrow, dark alley, but it's Iowa City. What's the worst someone would do? Puke on your shoe? Or ask you to petition for Greenpeace?
Tim took advantage of $3 Bacardi mixers, while I drank an overpriced and slightly-too-warm glass of Pinot Noir because they were out of the Port I first ordered. While the drinks weren't anything to shout about, the musician was.
Sean Boarini, 2007 UI graduate and one damn fine piano player, has a raspy, bluesy voice and what appeared to be an ability to not take himself too seriously. And wow, did he have a repertoire. His list of tunes while we were there included: Lady Madonna by the Beatles, Desperado by the Eagles, Anyone Else But You (that Juno song that the kids sang at the end), The Way You Look Tonight by numerous lounge lizards, Nightswimming by REM (that one prompted us to applaud, even though at the time we were the only people in the joint), Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash, Where oh Where Can My Baby Be? by Pearl Jam (I'm not sure that's really the name of it). He even impressively pounded out a request of Meat Loaf's I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) even though he sheepishly said he didn't know any Meat Loaf and added, "Isn't that embarassing?" We stayed over an hour, and things had just started hopping when we left. I could've stayed all night. Several great things about this place: first, we were among the youngest people there. I swear, it looked like an AARP convention. Second, NO SMOKE! Iowa's brilliant no smoking laws extend to bars now, so we didn't come home smelling like an ashtray. Third, we joked about how many times this poor guy must be asked to play Billy Joel's Piano Man, then later found out that he charges a $10 minimum fee to request that song.
And fourth: Ryan. You see, it was Ryan's birthday. We didn't actually know Ryan, but the two ditzy chicks with him were showing him a good time and entertaining everyone else in the process. One of the girls, wearing a low-cut mini-dress and stiletto heels, marched herself right up to the piano and made her request -- but only after making her drink order, loudly, at the exact moment Sean stopped playing: "I want a drink with a dirty name."
We all sang Happy Birthday to Ryan, then sat back to enjoy the song his girls dedicated to him. Sean started tickling the ivories, then we all got way beyond tickled when he belted out, "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls. Yes, it's about exactly what you think it's about. And it made me laugh so hard I almost fell off the barstool.
We found out this is Sean's regular gig. Maybe we'll become regulars, too.
Comments
Happy Birthday Ryan!!