Freedom Fries

Again with the Frenchie...

He was still in town this week, so we decided to go out for a second date in a week. Whew! There's something about going out two Wednesdays in a row that feels vaguely significant... Or at least like it aspires to be.

I opted for Madam's Organ, a neighborhood institution. Wednesday is bluegrass night, to which I'd never been. Madam's Organ, btw, completely deserves its place in the Adam's Morgan Hall of Fame--the atmosphere is fantastic, and the food really cheap. And I liked the bluegrass.

So, on this really horribly rainy night, we settled down at a table in the back of the bar, ordered food, and prepared to be entertained--if not by each other, at least by the band. That's not true--Frenchie and I always have a great time, and tonight was no exception.

The only really embarassing moment was at a point when we were kissing (and I really have gotten shy about kissing in public, but since I haven't brought him back to my apartment, I suppose it's kind of a necessary evil), and I was pulling away because there were people coming down the stairs right by our table. That, in my mind, is an audience. Not nearly as much, though, as when we finally actually pulled apart, and there were three guys sitting with us, despite the presence of other, empty tables. One looks at us and says, "Are we disturbing you?" And I'm surreptitiously wiping my mouth as we says, perhaps too vehemently, "Not at all!" And then, as if he just noticed that we might be on a date, he says, "Oh my gosh, we are, aren't we! We'll move over to another table!" And he and one of his friends moves, but the last friend is going to stay right there, thank you very much, and he starts chatting with us for the rest of the evening.