RSS
I’ve always been a big fan of happy hours. Not to get falling down, stupid drunk. But to lighten up and savor life a bit at the end of a good day’s work. It seems a time to reward ourselves, and to connect with folks whose company we enjoy. It’s really not so much about getting tipsy just for me, as it is about tippling a bit for us. Happy hours can build friendships, solidify working relationships, allow people to bond outside the usual place and time. And, hey, they’re just fun. At least that’s way I see it. Viewed like this, it really is “our” time to get “happy” together. Happy Our. Ha!
I’m going into all of this for a reason. Because I don’t go to happy hours anymore the way I used to. When I worked in newsrooms for 11 years, Friday night happy hours were the norm. Sometimes we’d all meet on weeknights too. Now that I write alone at home, these have become fairly rare events for me. I usually seem to hook up with friends for dinner rather than cocktails, mostly due to scheduling issues.
On Friday, though, a buddy asked me to join him and a couple other friends after work. Andrew suggested the 15th Street Fisheries, a spot I know well from having lived near there for several years. When we arrived, a decent enough little band was banging out some oldies and the outside deck overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway was packed. We ordered a couple of beers and chatted and ran into some other folks we knew and just did the usual happy hour kind of thing. Although it was a warm night, the breeze wavered in from the water often. Andrew and I shared some calamari, then had dinner and another beer while waiting for his friends to show. The tunes of Neil Young and Bob Dylan and the other usual Boomers were flowing from one side of us and the seabreezes were flowing from the other and when Susana and Jessica showed up, they added their own fresh energy and enthusiasm to the mix. We didn’t leave until nearly 10:30 but I relished every minute of it. This was doing a happy hour the way I always did them in those newsroom years. To top it all off, Andrew insisted on picking up everyone’s tab. Next time, it’s on me – and you know what? I can’t wait.
I’m going into all of this for a reason. Because I don’t go to happy hours anymore the way I used to. When I worked in newsrooms for 11 years, Friday night happy hours were the norm. Sometimes we’d all meet on weeknights too. Now that I write alone at home, these have become fairly rare events for me. I usually seem to hook up with friends for dinner rather than cocktails, mostly due to scheduling issues.
On Friday, though, a buddy asked me to join him and a couple other friends after work. Andrew suggested the 15th Street Fisheries, a spot I know well from having lived near there for several years. When we arrived, a decent enough little band was banging out some oldies and the outside deck overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway was packed. We ordered a couple of beers and chatted and ran into some other folks we knew and just did the usual happy hour kind of thing. Although it was a warm night, the breeze wavered in from the water often. Andrew and I shared some calamari, then had dinner and another beer while waiting for his friends to show. The tunes of Neil Young and Bob Dylan and the other usual Boomers were flowing from one side of us and the seabreezes were flowing from the other and when Susana and Jessica showed up, they added their own fresh energy and enthusiasm to the mix. We didn’t leave until nearly 10:30 but I relished every minute of it. This was doing a happy hour the way I always did them in those newsroom years. To top it all off, Andrew insisted on picking up everyone’s tab. Next time, it’s on me – and you know what? I can’t wait.
posted by LauderBLOGGER at 3:54 PM
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home