A Night with Jazz - March 16th

"Here's the menu for juice."

"Er....We are actually here to get drunk."

"Well, then here are the cocktails and beers we have."
"Why don't you recommend any wine, since, apparently, this is a wine bar?"
"I do get a commission for each bottle of wine I sell. But they are a bit overpriced; it will be more economical when you have more company."

This is how the waitress gained my favor. She is not really that pretty, even a little chubby. But the smile on her face somehow made her seem divinely pure.I am glad we went to the wine bar on that Jazz theme night. It was my last boys' night out with Larry in this lovely town where I called home. The dive bar across the hallway had minimum purchase requirement on Friday nights, which was the direct cause of our move to NZ Town. It turned out to be a much better choice. "It must have been Fate," as Larry put it. Friendly service is always a good start. What makes it better were the chic performances and an elegant selection of booze.

After we ordered our drinks, the show began. The warm-up was, for what it's worth, better than what I had expected. The singer has a somewhat coarse but touching voice. He sat on the stool still, all loosened. His head was swinging with the melodies. I was generally content with his performance, appreciating his own version of Someone Like You and Di Da Di. But other than that, nothing actually remains, if I had to recall. Remember that random Youtube video you watched and laughed, but can't really tell why it's funny? Yep, you got it, delightful but not profound. Larry and I wished that he could put on a three-piece suit, with a fedora and a pair of wingtips, to make it slightly more memorable.

Alas, he soon went back to his fag hags and started chatting, leaving the audience in reminiscence and anticipation. The stage went unoccupied, but not for long. The next time when I turned around from my conversation with Larry, I saw a gentleman walking in. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. He was exactly what we had imagined a jazz singer would be - a gentleman from the 50's. His three-piece suit was tailored to fit; his fedora elegantly resting on his head; and his wingtips shining with the dim lights shedding on the surface. Oh and his smile, so light-hearted, as if he just carelessly fooled somebody else's heart. A perfect dose of flirtation with a strain of disdain, he surely knows how to impress. Then I started to worry: Is his performance going to be on par with his outfit?

The concern was unnecessary. Not only was he a better singer, he also spiced up the performance with jazz elements like tap dance. There were a lot more dynamics in his performance. It was enticing and creative. Every song he sang was original with his own mutation. While at the same time, he could be Louis Armstrong, or Frank Sinatra, or Lou Bega. A little bit clumsy sometimes, but he would manage to deceive the audience in believing that he was Charlie Chaplin in the 20's. It was nearly perfect. And I was pleasantly surprised, nearly star-struck. He noticed me applauding to every single one of his songs. He bent over to me and sang, "Take your hand and kiss on it." And posed a gesture of invitation. This littlest delight pulled out the flirtatious spirit within me. So I chuckled and responded, "What a Continental gentleman. But that has to come later since I currently have a company to entertain." He smiled back at me and continued on his singing.

As if Larry was infected by this scandalous atmosphere, he leaned over and whispered, "You have no idea how much I wish you were a girl at this moment. So that I could give you a proper kiss, as it is being urged by this proper amount of romance." I was left in shock for a moment. He was never this straightforward. There was certainly chemistry between us. Absolutely and without a doubt. Even the blindest and least creative person could see it. But we both know it is never gonna get anywhere further than collegiality at work and friendship afterwards. Quasi-dates are we all could have. After all, he is about to get married with a wonderful girl, and I was about to leave that town. I didn't know what to say or do. So I held my Margarita up and started sipping, hoping that the sudden blush in my face could be buried by my Asian glow.
When I was lying on bed that night, I could not help but think about what he had said and about my relationship with him.

We developed a great friendship over the four months. I enjoy hanging out with him, and from what I gathered, the feeling was mutual. We, well at least I, tried very hard to not even think that this relationship could in some way develop into anything else. And it worked. I did not think of him as anyone more than a dear friend I newly made. But that night, perhaps because I was leaving very soon, he put his feelings on the table. He shouldn't have though. Sometimes it is better to just keep ignoring the elephant in the room. Now, he decided not to ignore it regardless of my disagreement. But his attempts were destined to be unsuccessful as I was set to be unresponsive. I wonder what he was thinking that night. What he was thinking about his soon-to-be marriage. What he would tell his fiance what had happened. I couldn't stop thinking what if John was right, what would he do then?

The jazz melodies wouldn't go away on my mind. I stayed up late that night thinking about all sorts of stuff.