Saturday morning I go to The Wife and I says,
“Guess where we’re going tonight?”
“Somewhere terribly romantic, I hope.”
“That’s right. Reggaefest!”
“It’s our anniversary.”
“I know. And reggae is the music of love. What could be more appropriate? And I get to wear my Spider Mon T-shirt.”
“I hate your Spider Mon T-Shirt.”
“And everyone else loves it.”
“This is for the opera and all that Shakespeare, isn’t it?”
Every year The New Town at St. Charles hosts Reggaefest, although this year I was told by the organizer not to call it that because a festival features multiple bands and this is just one band playing for three hours. But I was never much for semantics, so I’m going to keep calling it Reggaefest because Reggae concert doesn’t sound as good.
I contacted all the usual suspects to join us because the more, the merrier when it comes to Reggaefest. This year most of the usual suspects were leaving town that weekend. The only people who we knew would be there were Yellow and Tim, mainly because they live in New Town.
It then occurs to me to invite my dear friend Cales, whom I haven’t seen in ages. I didn’t figure she would be interested, but it never hurts to try.
“Sure we’ll come, as long as you make Aaron a finalist in RROY Report Idol.”
“Done and done.”
We packed up the picnic basket and arrived at New Town around 7:30 p.m. The sky was overcast and thunder could be heard rolling in. Sigh. Rain always ruins New Town festivals. Not always, but often enough to be annoying. Non Stop Reggae were jammin’ on stage and the amphitheater grounds were packed.
We found Yellow and Tim and enjoyed about three songs before the lighting and thunder scared them away. We hung out for another song but then the precipitation turned from sprinkles to out-and-out rain, so we made our way back to the car. The phone rings.
“Cales! Where are you?”
“In our car. It’s raining. Where are you?”
“In our car. Why don’t you come over to our house since you’re already in St. Charles?”
“OK, we’ll meet you there.”
The Wife is now in panic mode because people are coming into her house and she hasn’t had a chance to clean it properly because she’s been at the pool all day and she tells me we need to get there first so she can clean the bathrooms and clean off the tables.
We arrive at the house and Cales and Aaron are sitting on our porch swing. The Wife and Son go inside and I tell them I have to stall them for a few minutes so we chat on the porch until I figure enough time has passed to clean a bathroom and put in the guest towels and put away some magazines.
We came inside and I turned on the TV and found the reggae channel and we had our own Reggaefest. I have to say, Non Stop Reggae is much better than the stuff they play on the U-Verse’s reggae channel.
The Wife put some brownies in the oven and I gave Aaron the one beer we had in the fridge and then got the other 3 beers off the porch and put them in the fridge so they would be ready by the time he finished the first one. Cales settled for wine.
We had a very nice visit getting caught up on our lives. At one point Cales and Aaron convinced The Wife to play a song on the piano, at which point I went into shock because I have never seen The Wife play the piano in our home for visitors.
She did not, unfortunately, play reggae.