Martini Humor

At a tailgate party last year, a wise fellow and I were discussing martinis, a favorite at these get togethers.  He told me that one of his mentors once told him that martinis are like shoes:  one isn't enough, two are just right, and you don't need three.  I think of that advice often.

So last night my friend Captain John and I agreed to meet at Shula's 347 in South Miami.  I had come home early, and he was driving from Brickell, through the monumental traffic caused by this weekend's huge events: Grove Arts Festival, Boat Show, and Wynwood Art Fair.  It's a weekend that brings in far more tourists than any Super Bowl, and locals tend to stay off the roads.

I invited Wifey, but she begged off -- we're headed to Shula's again tonight to meet Diane and her fiance John anyway.

So John and I sat at the bar, and ate apps and solved the problems of the world. The place grew crowded around us, and we joked with the sweet and zaftig young bartender.  John spotted someone he knew sitting at a table near the bar, and couldn't remember the fellow's name -- thought it might be Bruce, and remembered the man was a Pinecrest Commisioner.  I didn't know him.

Canes coach Jim Larranaga walked by -- he was having dinner with his wife.  I stopped him and shook his hand -- thanking him for what he did for my team.  He was gracious and said he and his wife were headed home to watch their son coach at an All Star NBA event -- the young man is an assistant with the Celtics.  I introduced him to John, explaining he's a Cavalier and Gator, and Coach said he wouldn't hold that against him.

We continued talking and laughing, and then it was time to go.  We planned , if the fellow approached John, to do the old "Do you know my friend Dave?" and I would shake the other dude's hand, asking him his name.

Sure enough, "Bruce" sprang up to greet John, I extended my hand and told my name, and he said he was "John Butler."  The place was loud.  We chatted about Pinecrest -- the new mayor is our new neighbor, in Devonwood, and "John Butler" said he knew him well and that he would be a great mayor...

We got outside, and I said to John "so the dude's name isn't Bruce -- it's John Butler."  John looked puzzled -- no -- that wasn't it.  And then, through the slight haze of our two martinis, he blurted out "Jeff Cutler!"

We laughed heartily, in one of those "you had to be there" moments.  Sure enough, I DID remember a Pinecrest Commish with that name.  Silly, funny mystery was solved.

I came home and Wifey was on the phone with her friend Linda.  She handed the call off to me, so I could tell Linda about a friend I wanted her to meet.  The night was lovely -- I sat outside and looked at the stars -- realizing, as always, how we are but dust in the wind...

That's a song!  Maybe it was written by John Butler...