Isobela called yesterday morning to tell me she saw in the newspaper that Heath was playing at 7 that night, so we arranged to meet in Nantucket. Heath events there are somewhat dressy, and I had just that morning picked up a new tuxedo called MoonGlow; kinda grayish. So I found a corsage and I was ready to go.
About a half-hour before the concert Isobela called to say she was ready and to check up on me. I decided to head over to Nantucket early, and found Heath in a Santa hat getting set up. I stayed in the back, behind the seats, to stay out of the way and wait for Iso. And wait, and wait. She finally called to say she was having transportation problems and would be there as soon as she could.
At one point I must have been hallucinating because I could have sworn that she showed up, we said our hellos, and as I walked down the aisle and turned into a row to get us seats she kept going. She kept going down the aisle and into the ground in front of the stage and then completely underground, going deeper and deeper. I imagined her screaming that she was going to hell even! I knew I was imagining this because she calls a minute later to say she is at her house and it's impossible to get transportation to Nantucket then.
Poor Isobela, she had so been looking forward to listening to Heath. She even had a new dress special for the occasion. Time for a quick Plan B. I had remembered getting directions to a place called the Hot Sax Jazz Club, and had even stopped by there once briefly to check it out. It seemed like a good place to go dressed to the nines as we were, so I passed the directions to Isobela and headed there myself.
There was a good-sized crowd there; not too crowded but enough to be lively. I found an empty table and sat down to wait for Iso. There were quite a few unescorted young ladies there, and when they saw me sitting by myself they all started waving and saying "Hello handsome" and batting their eyebrows and flashing me. Well OK, none of them flashed me, but you get the picture. I was polite to them all, but I was waiting for Isobela.
And waiting, and waiting. She finally called to say that somehow she had ended up in Dublin. (Note to self: No comments about women drivers here.) I decided the best thing would be to just go to her. We had a quick conversation to decide between rock and Celtic; and headed into Fibber's to enjoy DJ Daddie and his charming hostess Spook.
We were a bit overdressed compared to the rest of the crowd there, at least until Jennifer showed up. There was a spot near the back wall with enough room for Isobela's flowing skirts, and we cut a mean rug for the rest of the night.