On the Same Frostbitten Wavelength

Dearest Rachel –

It would seem that, intentionally or not, the gang has (mostly at my insistence) developed something of a habit of getting together at a splashy restaurant on or about the first of the year since you’ve been gone. It hasn’t been the same one each time – indeed, it’s been somewhere different every time thus far – but it’s always been somewhere that could easily be considered extravagant, at least, by our standards.

There’s one additional factor to deal with, more often than not (although given the time of year, it shouldn’t really come as any great surprise): the fact that we find ourselves battling some pretty severe weather in order to get to where we want to be. Two years ago, we had to make our way through a driving blizzard; this year, it was a cold snap that had us dealing with highs that didn’t venture above zero Fahrenheit. Interestingly, while the torrential snowfall of two years ago all but gave us the restaurant to ourselves, that wasn’t the case last night by any means. I’m going to submit the argument that the phrase “to stop something cold” ought to be retired, as it’s quite the misnomer; cold doesn’t appear to stop Chicagoans, when they’ve already decided to go and have a night out.

Then again, it may very well be that the question of ‘whether’ isn’t so much a question of weather for the crowd we encountered last night. Since today happens to be an official holiday (for MLK – and I still remember the first time that was celebrated, back when I was at college, and we had a snowstorm big enough to bring a trashcan full of the stuff inside the dorm and have a snowball fight – although I stayed out of the fray, for the most part), it may very well be that a lot of people who had today off decided to party it up last night. By contrast, the blizzard party we celebrated two years ago was on New Year’s Day proper, when most people are either nursing hangovers or watching bowl games, or both.

In any event, the holiday somehow allowed all six of us the chance to get together without certain pressing requirements to deal with, such as Kerstin having to return to Beloit to deal with her route. To be sure, Logan and Ellen still have to work today (not everyone works a government-related job), but all in all, it was an unusually opportune chance to get together. The trouble was that we were apparently on the same wavelength as half of the town, as the place was absolutely packed out. Not a problem when you’ve made reservations, but there wasn’t a parking spot to be found anywhere nearby (necessitating a long walk made infinitely more so by subzero temperatures). Additionally, the snow and ice cover meant that anybody trying to park wouldn’t be able to see any lines as to where actual parking spots were. As a result, there were cars parked crazily throughout; you would see one at a certain angle next to someone else at a nearly opposite angle – and near either of them might be somebody practically parked parallel. Had everyone arranged themselves in a typical, organized form, I’m sure there could’ve been room for plenty more cars, but clearly, not everybody was on the same wavelength; certainly not to the same extent as they were towards going out in the first place. We were left having to park next to one of the anchor stores that had long since been closed down, and walk clear across the lot to make it to the place.

But we boys were the lucky ones, as we arrived first; the girls found themselves parking in very different parts of the overall lot, and wandering through the mall itself in order to find the restaurant. This will become important later on.

I’m sure you’ve divined the place I’m talking about by now; it’s the Brazilian steakhouse I’ve been asking everybody to join me at in celebration of finally making it under my license weight (and I suppose you’re surprised I didn’t use the title I’d suggested at the time). Ironically, by now I’ve spent the last two or three months not only below that particular benchmark, but also under the milestone number below it – although I have to admit, I was worried that the evening might vault me back over that particular limit. Then again, if one isn’t allowed to splash out once in a while, but has to endure a never-ending life of nothing but self-denial, where’s the point in it?

And we did have a good time, although we had to be brought up to speed on the rules of the place, and how to request one morsel of meat at a time. Several of us, in particular, fell to watching the gauchos as they emerged from the kitchen with skewers of lamb chops, only to venture off in a different direction from our table. For my part, I wasn’t so concerned with a single specific dish (although after the fourth or fifth time, we were all starting to actually find it funny that the guys with the lamb chops seeing to be actively avoiding us, for whatever reason, which we began to speculate about wildly); after all, everything was so tasty as to not really require being too picky. Still, I guess if one had one’s heart set on something, one didn’t want to get too full as to pass up the chance when it was finally offered to us – which it was after our main waiter asked us if there was anything we might want in particular. Yes, we said, can you direct the next skewer of lamb chops our way? Ask and you shall receive.

At the end of the meal, however, I couldn’t resist getting some practice in with my new selfie stick, and taking a picture of the group, just to see if I could. I might have known that the girls weren’t going to be any more familiar with the workings of this thing than I was – despite the fact that Kerstin had been taking pictures of her food throughout the meal – but it turned out pretty good for a first time, apart from the initial reaction to it.

I think we dragged the meal out that much longer than we might have otherwise, simply because none of us were eager to go back out in that cold. All the more opportunity to enjoy each other’s company, I suppose. But by the time we decided that we had enough, we realized that the mall proper had already been closed (indeed the girls seemed to be playing a game of ‘spot the security guard’ as they whizzed past the window on their trademark Segways – wait, you didn’t think that light was coming from outside, did you?), and they wouldn’t be able to go through the mall itself in order to get to their respective cars. It was decided that I should fetch our car (although Daniel insisted on coming with me), drive it to the front door, and everybody pile in for me to transport them to whatever part of the lot they were parked.

Getting to the car was a little easier than finding a spot in the first place, as people had cleared out from the mall itself – although the lot was still quite crowded, despite it being two hours since the mall had closed. These couple of restaurants – and the comedy club – apparently draw quite the crowd.

However, once we got to the door of the restaurant, we discovered that getting everybody into the car was more difficult than it ought to have been. For starters, I tend to forget that, unless I have the car in park, the rear doors do not unlock. Once that issue was sorted out, however, it turned out that the actual doors were all but frozen shut. We managed to get the rear hatch open at first, which Erin used to climb in, but the others weren’t quite so keen to board until we finally got the rear passenger door pried open. There was a moment when one of the girls – I forget which – concluded that it might just be easier to just walk to their car in the blistering cold rather than struggle to get into mine. But eventually, we managed to get everything open – although everybody had to crawl over everybody else, in order to find a seat, as the door behind me refused to budge – and we dropped everyone off at their own vehicle, all while waiting for each of them to start their own car, just to make sure that they could.

From there, we made our way back to the house – and the girls actually decided to join us, despite the lateness of the hour (holiday, after all). Erin had actually brought a game for us to try that she’d been talking about, and we gave it a couple go-rounds.

Basically, the idea was that one player would start with a binary choice, and come up with an example that would range from one end of the sliding scale between the two options, and see if their fellow players could get within the prescribed rage between them based on the example given. The name of the game comes from the fact that you have to be on the same wavelength as the person giving the example. I’m pretty sure you would’ve gotten a kick out of it, and, given the connection between the two of us, we might’ve been able to do pretty well. As it was, when we were guessing, we would analyze the choice practically to death, much to the amusement (or in one case, consternation, as Ellen got the choices backward one time; our guess turned out to nearly mirror the target, so if she hadn’t gotten the two ends confused, we might’ve done just fine) of the one providing the clue.

It was almost eleven when Ellen admitted that, since she did need to go in to work today, we needed to disperse for home. We hadn’t had a night like this in so long, honey; you would really have enjoyed it. As it was, we were already talking about a ‘next time’ maybe as soon as this weekend; Kerstin invited us all to her hotel in Beloit, as her post there would be closing out by the end of the month. I’ll have to consider that – I don’t know what the others would think about such a trip, but as the window of opportunity is closing, well… (I know you would have insisted on going, if only to take a dip or two in the pool, but that’s not the draw for the rest of us as it was for you).

Anyway, that’s the story about last night – and possibly another night in the near future. I’ll reach out to you later, but for now, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.