The government is back at work, just like it never left, and the Fish and Wildlife crew were occupying the cocktail nook in force. Jon-without was standing next to Old Jim, who was sitting at the stool I normally occupy at the Willow.

Some young guy- business suit- was sitting in Jim’s usual place. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Sotto vocce, I said “What the hell? I sense a Disturbance in the Force.”

“It’s OK,” said Jon-without. “Jim doesn’t mind.”

“Adam is a fine fellow,” growled Jim, and then he introduced me to the young man in the suit and defused the potentially explosive situation.

“I will move,” Adam said apologetically. “I hate to take the seat of a Regular. I didn’t know I was walking into Cheers.”

“There were some assholes in that bar,” I said. “Norm, right?”

“No, it was that postal guy. The know it all.”

“Cliff Claven,” said Adam. “I have been here since 3:30. They cancelled a meeting and I had a choice of trying to get an earlier plane or start drinking.”

“Drink early,” said Jon-without.

“Drink often,” said Jim.

Then the conversation drifted on to why we liked Coach better than Woody Harrleson, and how Shelley Long screwed the pooch by leaving early. “Kirstie Alley ate the set,” said Adam.

I noted that both Adam and Jon were drinking martinis and briefly considered doing the same, though Jasper decided the matter by firmly planting . The discussion transitioned to the pluses and minuses of the miracle elixir, and whether or not Jon should have another, since the Lovely Bea was going to pick him up to go to the grocery store, and she was going to call and advise him of the plan at five.

I looked at my phone. It was five-fifteen. “Oh, you mean Bea time. She will be calling sometime before six.”

“I hope it is before that. I am parked at one of the two parking meters next to the bar. It is a one hour meter and I have been here since four-thirty.”

“So you have to feed the meter pretty quick. Are you going to try to have another drink before she gets here?”

“I think it might be the wise thing,” he said, and gestured toward Tex to get another of those perfect vodka martinis with four olives. As it turned out, Adam was from Hartford, CT, and had a traveling job that coincided with Jon’s hometown of Plattsburgh, NY, where his Dad had retired after an Air Force career.

“That is quite a coincidence. There is not much else around there, not since the base closed after BRAC 90.”

“They did a fire-sale for all those SAC bases after the Cold War ended,” I said. “We lost three bases in Michigan.”

“Plattsburgh was on Lake Champlain, right where the stop signs turn into “Arret” in Quebec.”

Adam said: “Walking from the plant I visit there down to the lake you can feel the temperature drop ten degrees.” He simulated a shiver.

Jon’s new iPhone 5S went off, and he pressed his finger on the print reader to unlock it and answer. It was the Lovely Bea, running just a little late, and sure enough just a minute or two past when Jon’s meter was going to expire. He got up to go feed the infernal contraption and returned a couple minutes later holding an official looking strip of paper.

“They got me,” he said. “Those Arlington meter-readers are something fierce.”

“They are a cunning bunch,” I said, and we exchanged stories of the ingenuity, tenacity and guile of the enforcement community until Bea arrived. She had a drink, but clearly wanted to accomplish the mission. When they called for the check, Old Jim and I decided to do the same thing and leave the bar to Adam and his business partner, a Punjabi man of about the same age.

They had decided that more martinis were the answer, and were attempting to soak up the alcohol with sirloin tips in some sort of elegant sauce.

We left Willow fairly early, and I was astonished to note that we had not talked about a single one of the elephants in the room. It felt pretty therapeutic, and I actually whistled on the way up the block to the car.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303