I’m married and quite happy sitting at the midpoint of a long table (that’s where appetizers are most likely to be dropped off). I’m more likely to pay attention to things like food and beer. We went again last night to the National and here’s the story from the point of view from someone hitched. (Actually, it’s from my iphone’s perspective. That’s the best way to track the evidence.)
5:30 pm: We arrive for a media/VIP grand opening. The patio is sunny and packed, glorious.
We march past the patio; we’re on a mission. Our friends are inside, seated near the towers of oysters at the oyster bar. I hope my friends always have the sense to hang out near the oysters.
5:45: We’re hanging out with our friend, Brenna from Stylista. I admire the massive beer list, posted on a flip screen like an airport in the 1980s. It lists over 100 North American microbrews. I’m a speedy reader but I cannot read through to the end before it flips and I need to start again. In the end, I settle on a black pilsner dark lager from Brew Brothers Brewery. All is good.
We take a photo.
As we’re checking out the photo, I get a text from the husband. It says, “Do you have white knee-high socks?”
The girls marvel at his weirdness. So do I. I can’t even begin to explain the text. I text back, “no, I do not. I grew out of that phase long ago.”
6:15: We sit down at the middle of one of the long tables. We eat oysters, slides and corn dogs with friends. Everyone is happy (even Michelle, though she is looking to score a spot at the end of the table). Rotisserie smells very, very good.
We’re sitting with an architecture student and clothing designer and we all admire the clean open space.
Michelle texts me that she has white knee high socks and I can borrow them. I reply with, “Awesome. They are fort husband.”
I realize that I should probably get more food.
6:45: We order more pints. This time, I go with a Phillips Blue Buck, a favourite from last summer’s adventures in Victoria. I could’ve gone with any number of my favourites: Fernie Brewing Company, Village Brewery, Anchor Brewing, Granville Island. Realize that I’ve lost my own taste in beer and adopted the husband’s. Point for him.
7:00: I am introduced to a boy that seems oddly familiar. He feels the same. Michelle seems to know both of us and is giving me weird looks that I should clue in. Am wondering about past dalliances and then, I remember: he used to be one of my editors. Funny thing, freelancing. Someone can be your editor and you have no idea who they are.
7:15: There is an animal protecting the washroom hallway. I like that.
8:00: We leave. It’s a school night and there’s a long weekend followed by Stampede ahead.
Final assessment: National works for singles and marrieds.