Day 11 featured some misadventures concerning the romancing of one lady on behalf of a friend. Before you take that the wrong way, click here for that story.
Now that we're all caught up, today represented the kibosh on that objective and the culmination of over a month's planning and scheming (planning's deviant, but better read brother). Over the last month, my friend, committed to romancing his lady back into his loving embrace, wrote a rather beautiful song about her. The song was to be performed on his visit back to Toronto at an open mic, with her quite unaware until the song was underway. This event took place this evening.
The original plan involved pyrotechnics and an elaborate pulley system with a live baby wearing fake wings and holding a bow and arrow, but we scrapped that early on (when my neighbours noticed their baby missing). The next plan was much more simple. Get a band to be on stage, a band that the lady wouldn't know but that would already know how to play the song. Get our Don Juan to come on stage and act like he's never met us and then BAAM, play the song through perfectly (much to everyone's surprise), evoke a tsunami of tears and win our man back into the lady's good graces.
Like any good romance movie or book (or sonnet in the days of yore) it wouldn't have been authentic without a slew of hiccups and last minute debacles seemingly meant to derail our best laid plans. Like the venue needing all open mic-ers to arrive at 5pm for sign up. Then again at 7pm to choose a time to play. Then again at 8pm when the open mic starts. Unfortunately we had decided to rehearse the tune at 4pm on the day of and it's an hour transit to the venue. Because of this, the singer/guitar playing Don Juan couldn't actually make it to the rehearsal until 6pm, then cabbed it back to the venue to secure a time. Then the only way he could get a time earlier than 1:30am would be to do only one song. Well this ruined the scam we had where the band members did a song as a trio and then Don Juan just barged in to play his song. Our ruse seemed to be foiled, and good.
We needed a different plan and we didn't get a chance to make one until we had all arrived at the venue. I text Don Juan to meet me in the washroom and we talk strategy. Apparently this is a known function of the washroom because other peeing men started chiming in their two cents. New plan is: band goes up and sets up, he leaves the table once we're all ready to go. He even spiced up his exit by adding a "I guess that's my cue" and then handing his lady an iPhone with the lyrics on it. No hesitation the song begins and as I understand it, we achieved our tsunami. My man sung beautifully, the band played great and after it happened we all had a sit down and I finally got to formally meet the woman for whom I had raced the length of Toronto and arranged a band (paid for in steak and broccoli).
She's lovely and quite deserving of my wonderful friend. And the romance? Big win. That means I'm starting to actually bank good karma. If there were a good vibes free market, I'd be investing right now. Now's the time, the market's got no where to go but up!
I'm also piling up on mushy love experiences (that by some cruel joke, haven't involved me directly yet). I see that as a good thing. Apparently all you need is love. Course, if you follow that line of thinking you may also believe we all live in a yellow submarine and that the sea mainly consists of time, holes and monsters. I'm gonna make it an original thought and say, all you need is love and fleece blankets. Everything else is optional. Fleece blankets, here I come!