daily preciousness

Sunday, January 16, 2005


I have never been serenaded by an Italian waiter before – not even while wandering 'round Rome, feasting on panini and red wine everyday.

So it was a nice surprise to hear the bouncy Italian waiter's serenade, standing on a chair, singing his heart out to us. Red wine was involved during this feast, also. Candles flickered on the table and the smell of fresh bread mingled with my steaming plate of marinara pasta.

Luigi sang a joyful song and thanked me. He thanked everybody, actually.

Was his name Luigi? No, but it might has well been. Seeing him, you'd half suspect that he was about to leave the restaurant and give the two scrappy dogs out back a plateful of leftover spaghetti and meatballs for a quick reenactment of Lady and the Tramp. Or maybe he was a Mario. But no, on second thought. If he were named Mario, it would necessitate me being tied up and screaming, a crazed gorilla with a penchant for flaming barrels and iron rafters slanting at unruly angles.

But no quarters were involved. There was no classic 8-bit sound. It was real.

I experienced it in R/L. That's "Real Life (TM)".

It was the night of November 1. Pal T Todd and I were sitting elbow to elbow with about sixty of our closest friends. By closest friends, I mean fellow dem volunteer/activists. We had just laughed at several brief politico pep talks. A cheerful and generous millionaire (who looked very young to be a millionaire) had just bought dinner for us.

Then Luigi opened up his mouth to thank us and sing a beautiful song of hope and joy for us. His voice was trumpet-like and clarion. It filled the whole room. It was so strong that I could feel it, just as much as I could hear it. (I wouldn't want to follow him at a karaoke bar!)

After a filling meal, we left to go to the rally. It was a fun night. The oversized volunteer T-shirt fit me about as well as a drop-cloth. But I didn't mind. The speeches were straight-forward and cheerful. I left with a new respect for Jimmy Buffet. He knows how to drop it like it's hot. Or something like that. Just like Luigi the waiter.

Looking back to that wonderful experience is a little difficult now. But at least I can write again!

I'm on the road to recovery now after my bout with epsilon toxin poisoning, Kifflom be praised!


  • Poor baby! Sounds like my life about six years ago when I had all that digestive tract unpleasantness!

    Or about 2 weeks ago when I got food at the Union. (LSU inside joke).

    Was it carelessness on some one's part or were Squirrels involved?

    By Blogger Anachronus, at January 16, 2005 4:21 PM  

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