A "Huxta-position" of an Evening

Its always better when you stick around for the punch line. "Knock Knock," "Whose There?" "Orange," "Orange who?" or "Whats the deal with cereal?" These are all meaningless phrases without the kicker that makes it all worthwhile. Thus begun our Saturday night. I had heard a little too late that Bill Cosby was going to be in town at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. When I relayed this news to Rebecca on Friday night, she replied with, "Oooh, I'd looove to go." And, like every good husband knows, when your wife would "looove" anything, you do everything you can to make that happen. I also agreed, this would be a fabulous show. I think deep down we might all love to be one of Rudy's friends bouncing from side to side on Dr. Huxtable's knee. Unfortunately, when I went online all the tickets for the event were sold out. So, as it came closer to 8p.m. on Saturday night we got dressed up as if we were going to still see the much anticipated comedy show. After all, there are always scalpers. Apparently, always, except for Bill Cosby. I had a burning wad of cash that I had retrieved from the ATM just waiting to be spent on over priced tickets. Round and round we circled the event center on foot. Not a scalper in site. What an utter disappointment. There would be no jell-o pudding, no "dad is great, he gives us chocolate cake," no dead panned, eyes bulging, stares, not even any ranting about social justice. So, then we decided to go into the lobby to see if any bold individual might be standing around holding two tickets in the air. Nothing. Then, on the big screen tv in the lobby, Bill Cosby appeared. The show was being broadcast from the stage to the lobby so real ticket holders wouldn't miss a minute. It was kind of like going to a mega-church in Franklin, where you weren't holy enough to make sanctuary seating, so you got to watch the service from the choir robe closet where all the spill over goes. We waited patiently for him to begin speaking. Then the lobby crowd quickly thinned out. This was nerve racking. I wanted to catch at least one joke before the ushers were "on to us" and escorted us towards the door. Then he says, "When you are this old, its no longer a senior moment." A pregnant pause followed. It was torture. The usher was walking towards us. What to do? ..we had to bolt. There you have it, half a joke. I have no idea what followed. I tell myself it was pure comic genius. In my imagination Rebecca and I have tears in our eyes from the hilarity of it all. Instead, we later ended up at a "joke" of an asian restaurant called Pearl Fusion Restro. Restro was a very appropriate word for this place. This made-up trendy title, sums up so much of the dining experience. It was not nearly good enough to be a "restro-rant" and the owner must have been so lazy that he didn't worry much about the service, food or even finishing the label of his eating establishment. I will give it this. The coked out greeter, often making out with various male customers at the bar, almost made up for the entertainment lost by missing an evening with a comic legend.