Is there in fact any live music on a Tuesday night in March in the Great Metropolis of Providence?That was the question.
Normally, it would not be possible for me to even contemplate staying up late enough to find out the answer. But this week, with the time having sprung ahead and the weather clear and fine, I was ready to dance at (drum roll, please) 9:30 p.m. The only hurdle to actually going out at that hour was rousing Retired Guy from his comfortably horizontal position on the sofa, where he had been happily watching non-stop TV coverage of La Scandale Spitzer — or, en espanol, Escandolo.
But somewhat reluctantly, he did accept, after it was pointed out to him that while the Governor of New York would have had to pay more than $4,000 for a night on the town with an elegant, educated, 3- or maybe even 4-diamond companion, he — the Emperor of Providence — would be getting it for free.
We found a parking spot without any problem, and — and this would prove to be the highlight of the evening — spotted a Mini Cooper in the new Nightfire red color, which we decided was far superior to the old Chili red, which seems — to me, at least — to scream "mid-life crisis."
Then we entered Tazza, the artsy and contemporary cafe-cum-coffeehouse where (I had noted on a lunch-time walk about town) Tuesday is Blues Night.
Well! It turned out to be a free open mike type of thing, rather than an actual band. The gray-bearded man who was playing some kind of noise on an incredibly jangling stringed instrument had it so close to the microphone that it actually hurt my left ear. RG immediately turned off his hearing aid, which solved the matter for him, but we obviously had to leave having barely removed our coats.Still not sleepy after we got home, I went to the internet to google "eardrum damage" while the Emperor of Providence returned to his couch and TV, where David Letterman (looking considerably grayer than he had when I'd last stayed up to watch the Late Show) was delivering the "Top Ten Messages Left on Eliot Spitzer's Answering Machine."
Did Spitzer have to deal with bad music and acoustic injuries to timpanic membranes while entertaining his glittering girlfriends at the Mayflower Hotel?
I think not. But then, you get what you pay for, don't you?
