tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Goodbye Don the Beachcomber

Holy mother of hell! Weetabix has me listed in the diaries that she reads (with the cryptic comment: ďDoesnít seem to be updating anymoreĒ). But I am! I am now, and I promise that I will faithfully update at LEAST once a week for the rest of my natural born life (if not more) because a tout from the Weet Ė it is not a thing to be taken lightly. Speaking of Ms. Bix, my Chi-Town Posse (that sounds unbelievably cheesy) is meeting up Weetabixís Green Bay/Cali Posse on Saturday at Fogo de Chao, the divine Brazilian Meateteria. Since we all get along there will be no Sharks/Jets action Ė just a great deal of quaffing of tropical drinks and ingesting of piles of meat. Meat served up by handsome young men in Brazilian gaucho outfits Ė meat carved directly from the hot spits that cooked it. OK Ė I should just stop now because this is starting to sound like some sort of kinky food porn thing. I do promise that Iíll bring my sexy slim new digital camera with me and take loads of pictures to document the evening of revelry and if I can pull my tiny little head out of my ass Iíll try to figure out how to get the pictures off the memory stick, onto my laptop, and post them either here or somewhere I can link to so that you all can share in the convivial meatyness of our dinner. Donít hold your breath now Ė this is something Iíve vowed to learn how to do with the last two digital cameras Iíve had and let me just say I have a collection of little memory sticks with a whole lot of pictures stored on them and I have no idea how to get them off the sticks. None. Zippo. I am a technical zero. But, part of my promise that allowed me to cough up the money for the sexy tiny camera was that I would: A. carry it with me at all times so I wouldnít miss an important shot, and B. learn how to use the damn thing even if it means reading the whole manual from cover to cover and then begging for a tutorial from one of my more technically knowledgeable friends. Anyway, thatís enough groveling about my lack of techie ability. I simply cannot wait for Saturday! The reservation at Fogo is at 8:30 and weíre planning on meeting at the bar around 8pm. Iím bringing Steve and Alli and Mike, and I think Weet is bringing Chauffi and MoPie, and I have a hunch that some other Chicago journalers will be there as well. Iíll just have to see when I get there.

I got some distressing news today. Trader Vicís in the Palmer House will be closing as of the end of 2005. I have a dear friend whom I know from waaaaaay back (jeez Ė itís been 10 years now) when I started volunteering at the animal shelter. Weíre both busy people so when I switched the night I do my volunteer work on we just didnít get to see each other as much as weíd like. A couple of years ago we met for drinks at Trader Vicís and had such a great time that it was proposed that we meet seasonally for a night of (over)imbibing fruity drinks and eating pu-pus until we burst. Itís perfect Ė we get to see each other socially a minimum of four times a year and we always have a load of stuff to catch up on and we spend the night gabbing, gossiping and working our way through the extensive tropical drink menu at TVís. One particular evening I was perhaps (OK, totally) overserved and I noticed that the back of the menu had a special message from Trader Vic himself extolling the virtues of other famous Ďmixologistsí and this prompted much giggling and toasting as we not so quietly shouted, ďI salute you, Don the Beachcomber!Ē much to the dismay of those around us. It has since become our war-cry and I will be very sad when the Chicago outpost of TVís is gone. I thought that tiki bars were on their way back in but I guess that Iím wrong. My friend and I have plans to meet there on December 29th and weíre squeezing in an emergency visit on the 16th. I hope I donít get all maudlin Ė crying drunks are such a sad sight. Itís going to be hard to find a replacement bar for our seasonal excursions. We really like the tropical drink aspect, but TVís was also a place where a little naughty behaviour seemed to be just fine - you were expected to get a little looped there and to have a good time. I canít imagine saluting Don the Beachcomber at some nameless hotel bar or some place where everyone is drinking Miller Lites. Ah Christ Ė I must be PMSing or something because Iím misting up a bit even now.

Thatís all for now, but since this weekend is packed with social engagements Iíll have much to write about on Monday.

3:48 p.m. - 2005-12-02


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