The Fly and I

Doug and Gail, LHC friends, stopped in Santa Fe, NM en route to their MN home.  I suggested they eat at Harry's Roadhouse, a popular restaurant south of town where Trish and I had dinner last summer.  They did eat there, said they enjoyed it, but didn't mention seeing the infamous fly.

Last June: Trish and I arrived at Harry's about 5:30, decided to sit outside, perfect weather.  She ordered a margarita; I, a local microbrew.  We’d only taken a couple sips when this pesky fly arrived, quickly determined that I had excellent taste in handcrafted ales, and decided to help itself.  I wasn’t inclined to share and became irritated after several dive bomb attacks.

Fly, you’re gonna die.  I took a wild swing, a forehand smash, attempting to catch the fly in midair and then squish it.  Wham!  Crash!  Splash!  Missed the fly but nailed both the beer can and the nearly full mug of beer.  Beer everywhere!  Luckily, Trish wasn’t in the line of fire and the next table was vacant, so there was no collateral damage.  

I was disappointed that the other outside diners didn’t cheer and applaud.  Boring people.  No sense of humor.  Granted, it wasn’t my best performance ever but I thought it merited some recognition.   

I apologized profusely to the waitress as she cleaned up the mess, then ordered another beer.  The fly disappeared, possibly intimidated by my killer instincts but more likely sitting in the corner laughing its ass off.

That best performance ever?  It occurred in Oregon a few years ago.  We’d just finished dinner, which was enhanced by a bottle of champagne.  I topped up our champagne flutes, then picked up Ranger’s ball; he’d been patiently waiting to do his fetch thing.  I wound up and winged that ball a good one – right into the top edge of my full champagne flute.  It was spectacular!  A champagne/glass hand grenade!  Yee-haw!  Floor, walls, cabinets, everything down range within 20’ got a taste of bubbly.  Both Trish and I cracked up and continued chuckling while we did the cleanup. 

Don’t cry over spilled champagne.  Or beer.