Gaining party experience for my family’s benefit

Note: This column appears in the 1/14 issue of The Glendale Star and the 1/15 issue of the Peoria Times

I have been on the 1st birthday party circuit for the past month.

This is mostly all new to me. Sure, I have been to 1st birthday parties before. Most of them, I imagine, when I was one. But I do recall attending my niece’s 1st birthday party a couple of years ago. I even, rather appropriately, brought a couple of my ol’ college buddies, partly because they were staying at our house at the time and I had no other choice, and partly because they really know how to party.

Nevertheless, things are different now that we’re kind of, unofficially, parents. Whereas before at non-family 1st birthday parties we were shunned as “childless acquaintances,” we are now members of an exclusive club, with a laundry list of privileges, not the least of which is acceptance. And cake.

Case in point: While in California over the holidays visiting our friends, we tagged along to a 1st birthday party that we weren’t even invited to. Normally, this would be frowned upon by a society that is largely unwilling to dole out goodie bags to strangers. But it was cool, because we had our hopefully-soon-to-be-daughter with us. We belonged. We didn’t even bring a gift and I’m pretty sure I was first on the buffet line.

I am also beginning to understand 1st birthday party etiquette, my buffet line escapades notwithstanding. And this is good, because I had many questions going in, namely: Is it okay to ask for beer? Also: What am I supposed to do there? I have come to understand that it is okay –- encouraged even –- to accept beer if it is offered. (As a side note, at the party in California, I was offered hard liquor. I declined, as that would be a faux pas.) And your main responsibility while you are there is to smile and make sure your own child doesn’t get hurt. This is easy when you’re boasting a largely immobile four-month old. Less so when you have an almost two-year old and the birthday features a giant party bouncer, as my friend Rashad can attest.

This experience gave me confidence going into yet another 1st birthday party last weekend, which was for the daughter of our good friends around the block. Like a true professional –- and because I know my wife can hold her own at such an event -– I made sure to carry in our hopefully-soon-be-daughter myself, as I knew this would be an instant ice-breaker and conversation-starter. After I was offered a beer, I located the other men at the party and talked about baseball. Then I sang “Happy Birthday.” Acapella. I even talked to some of the other kids there, which is not required, but I was feeling it.

I have also been taking notes, because God-willing we will be able to plan a 1st birthday party of our own sometime down the line. So far I have: 1) don’t invite ol’ college buddies and 2) no peanuts. We also need a theme. Which is why I hope she likes baseball.


Goodie...box? Pfftt.

Hanging with Jimmy Buffet down at Margaritaville

Note: This column appears in the 4/17 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 4/18 issue of the Peoria Times

When my editor handed me two tickets to go see Jimmy Buffet perform live at Margaritaville, I asked her if I could write about it, since ya’ know, I usually write about sports (poorly). She joked with me that I should try and find a sports angle for the column. At least, I hope she was joking, because after much contemplation -- I think I may have heard “Cheeseburger in Paradise” during halftime of a Nets game back in the ‘90’s! -- I have decided this is too much of a stretch.

So, screw it. I’m writing about Jimmy Buffet this week. Not sports. You’re welcome.


No. 1 album on iTunes last week

I should preface this by saying I am not a Jimmy Buffet fan per say, which is to say I do not consider myself a Parrothead. (This should thoroughly annoy all of the die-hard Buffet fans who couldn’t make this show, as tickets could only be won, not purchased. Or, in my case, handed to me by an editor.) In fact, because I didn’t know until the day of that I was going to this event, I showed up in my work clothes while also talking on my cell phone, which is pretty much, by my own estimation, the antithesis of everything Jimmy Buffet stands for. In an attempt to fit in, I immediately downed a 16-oz beer. Then another. See, I can relax, darn it! It worked. I think.

The event served as the official grand opening -- though it’s been up and running for a few months now -- of Margaritaville in Westgate. And who better to kick things off than Buffet himself, the sole reason a place like Margaritaville even exists. My friend Ryan met me there, a real estate agent in need of a break. We figured, as the Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet duet goes, “it’s five o’clock somewhere.” In our case, it was five o’clock here. We got another beer.

The stage was set up in the center of Westgate, outside and in front of the fountains, but the party started inside Margaritaville. I had never been there before, but I really have to say, the whole environment just forces you to leave all your cares behind. It’s impossible to think about work when you’re standing next to someone with a balloon animal on top of his head, and a guy on stilts is bringing you a plate of nachos.

The crowd was amazing. For starters, tailgating for the show began at noon – the actual showtime was 5:30 – so virtually everyone inside of Margaritaville was, well, wasted away again. (Thank you, thank you.) It was tough to spot anyone not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a shark hat, a parrot hat, or all of the above. You could sense the anticipation. The TVs inside Margaritaville showed the stage outside, and when Jimmy Buffet walked out onto it, five minutes earlier than expected, the woman behind me grabbed a hold of her friend, and said, “No {bleeping} way,” as if she just happened to be there, and had no idea Jimmy Buffet was performing. The crowd subsequently rushed outside as if the place was on fire. We followed.

There he was, Jimmy Buffet, with his guitar, a microphone, a beach-themed background, and one other guy that served as his band. He played his songs while everyone in the crowd sang along, and we stood there, beer in hand, feeling pretty content. We marveled at the life this guy has forged, a life defined by relaxing and having a good time. Pretty darn cool. He finished with, of course, “Margaritaville,” and right after that I said to Ryan, “Man, not many people can say they saw Jimmy Buffet play ‘Margaritaville’ in front of Margaritaville!” Then we both looked out onto the crowd, and Ryan said, “Yeah, except for the thousands of people right here, right now.” What a jerk.

It should also be mentioned that Jimmy Buffet loves sports. I have no evidence to back this claim, but really -- who doesn’t love sports? Speaking of sports, stay tuned for next week’s column, where I will discuss, in detail, the nachos at Margaritaville.