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Weekend Shenanigans: MIAMI VICE 30 Year Anniversary Edition, and other things.


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EDITOR'S NOTE:  I know, I know...so delayed.  I really don't even know if it makes a difference because I don't know how many people really read my Shenanigans.  But, as is the pattern of late, I wrote this last Saturday and didn't finish it.  As usual, the choice is publish or dump it.  I published it half complete.  I'll try to complete it (if only for me self) this weekend.  Then write THIS Weekend's Shenanigans hopefully by Monday.  But then, who gives a feces?  IT'S FRIDAY!!!

 

“Fridays.”  Remember that show on ABC in the early ‘80s?  I barely do.  It was ABC’s answer to NBC’s “Saturday Nite Live.”  It was an odd show and it took a lot of chances.  It was not often funny but it was always entertaining.  Michael Richards was a player on it (he would later go on to play a ‘bad guy’ in an episode of “Miami Vice,” and would have near equal fame in a show called “Seinfeld.”  Also said the N-word several times to the audience at a comedy club.).

 

I have grown to like Fridays again.  When my wife was sick, I didn’t care what day of the week it was.  They all sucked equally.  Since meeting Date Chick, I have to say, I look forward to the weekends again.  Part of that are the shenanigans we get up to.  She always has something we can go to.  Most often, we don’t fulfill many of the invites handed out to her.  But if the event has coffee or good food, we usually put it on the calendar. 

 

This Friday started slow.  I woke up early and let the cat out then went back to sleep.  I woke up again thinking it was only about 7am.  It was nearly 8am.  I didn’t want to lift my head off the pillow, but weekend shenanigans wait for no one.  Not even, DR.  

 

I picked up my friend Tiny Rob (see way back Shenanigans but in a nuts-shell:  Tiny Rob had a stroke some years ago and it was touch-and-go for the days after.  But after some time, he came out of his coma [thanks, UCLA medical center].  And then physical therapy.  And all sorts of classes to relearn things.) 

 

One thing he doesn’t do is drive, so once a week I take him to his little hair salon in Laguna and he asks me the same questions he asked me the week before which are the same as the week before that and so on.  He brings his dog Madison.  Slobbers on my car’s glove box door while he – or she – sits on Rob’s lap.

 

Rob is a simpleton.  But a good one.  He reminds me to appreciate small things.  It’s a long drive back, but it’s worth the trip.  On the way to pick up Tiny, a stream of middle-aged bicyclists decided to cross PCH against the light.  Remarkable.  One of the dipshits put her hand up to me, motioning me to stop.  I wasn’t going to run her over on purpose, but the pack were lucky I wasn’t texting or changing the radio station.  I’m guessing my car would have knocked them over with ease.  This new bike law may have empowered stupidity.  As if we needed more of that.

 

Despite my early morning malaise, I was excited to meet Date Chick for lunch.  The same French bistro we went to that had not yet opened was still not yet open.  But they were having a preview lunch for friends and a select few others, us included. 

 

This time, the food was ample and unpronounceable.  I had a tomato tart which was delicious.  Some couscous.  A tomato stuffed with beef.  Lentils with bacon.  String beans.  And something fantastic consisting of a flaky pastry exterior and what could best be described as a Thanksgiving smorgasbord baked in the center.  It was good.  Wish I knew what the hell it was.

 

I had an éclair and some other frenchy thing for dessert.  And an espresso.  I was beat.  I dragged myself home and after making a Jasper Johns of the toilet bowl, I slinked onto the couch.

 

Now, your takeaway from this Shenanigan is as follows:  30 years ago this week (September 16, precisely), American television audiences were given the gift of Miami Vice.  Yes, the pilot episode was broadcast and the way in which one hour television was written, filmed and edited would never be the same.

 

The show had really been on my mind all week.  I put on a couple episodes that weren’t as heralded as the ‘big’ ones.  I watched “Better Living Through Chemistry” and “Viking Bikers From Hell.”  Both from Season 3.

 

Later, Date Chick came over after going solo to a TED Talk.  Shortly thereafter, my oldest brother joined us and we went to dinner at the Golden Dragon.  I love this place.  It’s a good ol’ American Chinese restaurant.  The kind that probably stays open Christmas for the jews.  I like its interior.  It’s ‘80s, and it fits in well with my 30th anniversary of Vice week.  The exterior has that geometric, efficient design with a stucco façade that would invade so many mini malls circa 1985.  Castillo would be right at home here in the episode “Golden Triangle.” 

 

When I lost my wife, I’d venture out on rare occasions for meals by myself.  The Golden Dragon is one of the few places I would go to give my mind a break.  I’d wait until about 2pm when the lunch crowd waned and I would be the only one there.  I could eat in peace and depression.  Just like Castillo would’ve done. 

 

But not tonight.  I was with Date Chick.  We ordered our favorite item:  the football-like egg rolls.  And lettuce wraps.  The first time I went to the Golden Dragon, I was a little worried it would not be fancy enough for Date Chick.  But she loved it.  They give you plastic mugs for your water.  “This water is SO good,” she said that first time.  How great is that?  It’s so important to have a partner who is appreciative of the little things.  Sometimes a little ice water is all you need.  You don’t get that response too often in Newport Coast, I reckon. 

 

To be continued…

 

 

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