We came back to reality, paid our bill and arrived back at the club thirty minutes before show-time. We were 10th in line and with all the chairs and tables available I knew we would have no trouble getting a seat up close. Finally, the doors opened and the once organized line collapsed into a rush cramming into the entryway. We were still in front as we entered and...what? Where did all the tables go? There were now just a few tables and chairs up around the stage and most of those were filled already. Where did those people come from? No matter. I grabbed Ana's hand and pulled her forward rapidly, just managing to get two seats at one of the long communal tables just as every remaining seat in the house was filled.
I looked around perplexed, unable for the life of me to figure out where all the tables went, and there they were, stacked willy-nilly 30 feet high in every corner of the club. Clearly they were going to cram as many people in here as possible. Standing room only. Thank heavens we got a seat. The man sitting across the table from me picked up a card from the table. “This seat is reserved,” he said. All of us picked up the cards in front of our seats. It was true. Each of us was sitting in a reserved seat, and we were not the reservees.
The guy across from me threw his card under the table and all of us followed suit. We tried to act in a nonchalant fashion, but I for one was contemplating what uncomfortable scene lie ahead. If worse came to worst, I would demand they get one of those willy-nilly tables from atop it's 30 foot perch. I'd be damned if I was going to stand in the back for two hours with the other sardines. It would be Ok, I decided. Everything would turn out fine. But that was before I knew that it was the...Night of the Living Patty LaBelle! (A woman's scream is heard, this time right in my ear.)
