Miami is indeed the smallest town of a big city there is. And I just got one of the funniest examples of that in a good while.
Tuesday night, Wifey and I had dinner with Paul and Patricia and Joelle and Kenny at a place in the Grove that only serves one dish: veal Milanese. Turns out, it was so delicious even the anti-veal Wifey ate some and enjoyed it, making believe it was chicken.
We pre-gamed at J and K's Grove condo -- some vodka for me, and wine Paul brought. We walked the 15 minutes to the restaurant over on Grand -- across from the long gone Grove Cinema, where they played Rocky Horror and Wifey and I saw "The Gods Must Be Crazy" and "Vanilla Sky," back when we did cooler things.
I drank a good amount of chianti, and then realized that this hyperplastic prostate man had to pee. When an older guy with an oversized gland has to pee -- he HAS to pee. I walked to the restroom -- only one -- unisex, and it was occupied. So I waited -- a server told me a woman was inside.
Of course, the minutes dragged on, as things became more dire. A handsome young fellow came to the door and tried it -- locked. I told him someone was inside. With the vigor and confidence of a young man -- he wasn't going to wait -- he walked out the rear open door, walked next to a dumpster, and let fly. I chuckled to myself, but realized I couldn't wait much longer unless I wanted my SUV to take on the scent of a NYC subway station when we drove home.
The young fellow came back in, and I summoned my best Denzel, and said "My MAN!" and high fived him. He laughed. I then followed his lead -- walked to the same spot, and enjoyed an Austin Powers-like pee -- a top 10 pee of the last year or so.
It was good I did -- when I returned, the woman inside was just then sauntering out -- still fixing her makeup.
So the story ends -- except this is Miami.
Today, D1 texted, and asked why I didn't tell her the hilarious tale I shared with one of her friends! Sure enough, my urine inspiration was none of the than Rob -- son of a prominent med mal defense lawyer Mom and general lawyer Dad -- I happen to like them very much. He's married to Marissa -- D1's dear friend and a fellow dietitian -- she wasn't at the restaurant or would have certainly come over.
Rob could tell I didn't recognize him. By the time the story got to D1, Rob and I were peeing together at the same dumpster. I assured D1 all penises were holstered when we high fived -- or maybe the story would have been funnier.
I always seem to run into Rob's parents Richard and Ilisa at restaurants, or local hardware stores. Now I get to tell them that their Duke grad son is, among other accomplishments, a true leader of men -- even those much older, and suffering the ravages of age...
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