Musician's Widow

Bags packed. Truck loaded. Sirius stations programmed. Cats cuddled.

It’s traveling for Turkey Day!! If anyone else is heading out to see family… Be safe out there!!

—–

Wishing my Mom a Happy Birthday today, too!

I’ve learned a lot the last few years while working in a bar. One of the biggest lessons is how little some people care about others’ possessions. And that BAFFLES me.

I have watched people drop burning cigarettes on a carpeted floor and squish it out with the toe, instead of putting it out in the ash tray, leaving a burn mark. I’ve also watched people who chew, spit their dip on the same floor. I have seen people grab a handful of napkins, wipe off a table and then throw the napkin on the floor. A pet peeve of mine is people who put their gum in the ash tray without wrapping it in paper first.

Cleaning the bathrooms is a whole new adventure of, “Do you do this at home!?!” I won’t EVEN go into that here in case you happen to be eating while you read this.

One evening, I was in the process of clearing tables,  when a man sat down at one I hadn’t gotten to yet, and while arguing with his wife, violently brushed all the half-full glasses of drinks off the table and onto the floor. And last Christmas, I saw a guy just start pulling down the stockings we had decorating the edge of the stage and throwing them on the floor. Laughing the entire time. Like we’d hung them there just for the amusement of his destruction.

As I wiped down tables yesterday, I was chatting with a woman who waitresses at a local restaurant. We were discussing how you can easily pick out the people who have at some point worked in customer service (or who know people who have)*. They’re the ones who will make their tables neater before they leave. They’re the better tippers. They’re the ones who will actually come and tell you when there is something wrong — well ahead of it becoming a huge issue.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. I know that these people I’ve mentioned here make up maybe 10% of any customer base. It’s unfortunate that 10% can ruin the night for others. And to that 10% I just want to stand up and go, “REALLY!??! Do you act like this at home!?”

*Okay, this is a big generality. There are those who are just more aware, and who do realize, “I’d want someone to do this for me.” Doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve worked in customer service. But… they’d be dang good at it if they did!

If you’d asked me before this weekend if I was afraid to go on a long ride on the back of a bike, I’d have probably not given you much of an answer. Or, I’d have given you a much longer answer than you wanted.

I’m not afraid. Its just not high on my list of things to do. As in, not even on my bucket list to be knocked off it.

HOWEVER.

I married a man who happens to love motorcycles. Who has had bad accidents on them, and yet still wants to get right back on. There’s something admirable about that… not letting anything stop him from doing something he loves.

Not even a wife who practically wanted to burst into tears over plans to go riding yesterday. Because that “just not interested” turned out to be, “Scared to death.”

When a friend offered us his bike for the afternoon, my husband became more excited than anyone’s kids after Halloween, staring at a big bowl of candy. I couldn’t not go. I couldn’t deny him this excitement. He wanted to share this big part of himself with me, and I appreciated that more than I could share under the quivering, shaking, terrified child I became.

We went to pick up the bike. We got bundled up (since even though it was upper 60s, it would be chilly on the bike), my husband plopped a helmet on my head and… I swung a leg over and had a death grip on my husband as we took off.

We hooked up with some friends to go riding together, and off we went hitting back roads around Nashville. It took awhile, but I slowly released the death grip I had on Hubby’s jacket. I even got confident enough to dig out my phone and take a few photos.

Half-way through our travels, we stopped to have a light lunch together. Fighting daylight, we didn’t linger long before we took off again. Getting back on the bike, I figured out a more comfortable way to sit, and my confidence went even higher.

As the sun started to set (darn time change), it started to get chilly. We stopped to stretch our legs for a moment and come up with a plan. We headed for a local bar for a post-ride drink before calling it a night.

I faced a fear, and I conquered it. I have to thank my husband for being so adamant we were going, despite my fears. I didn’t fall off. We didn’t crash. We only  had ONE vehicle ignore a Yield sign and pull out in front of us — but then, that happens ALL THE TIME here, so it was just annoying versus scary. I didn’t freeze. And… dare I say it? I had fun.

Yes. I had fun. There. I said it.

I. Had. Fun.

And I will be happy to do it again sometime.