Mulletopia

I saw a dog running down the street on Monday morning with it's leash flapping behind it. Clearly this little boxer had broken free from it's post and was now on an adventure. You rarely see dogs on adventures anymore. There it was charging up the street with it's tongue flapping and ears pricked.

FREE!

It was doing that half run half jumpy things that dogs do when they get off the leash. He surely knew he would be recaptured but for a moment he was free and was going to sniff as many butts and pee against as many posts as he could before he was restrained again. That's how I felt on Sunday when I finally got out of work.

Well minus the butt sniffing and post peeing, but only just, I was very very pleased to be, "off the waiter leash".

But I too charged up the street with tongue out and ears pricked, FREE! I didn't write on Sunday night due to exhaustion, both mental and physical. I also didn't run up any street but I did get into a very nice taxi which sped me home post haste. The weekend was one of the toughest in a very long time. Two tables went wrong, very wrong. The rest of the weekend was a rip roaring success with tips at k-ching k-ching k-ching levels, that is to say very good. But the human condition being what it is I just couldn't get the two tables that went wrong out of my mind. And if I had posted something on Sunday night it would have been a thousand word diatribe of bitterness and anger akin to the final words of a pre-rampage murderer. So I decided to give it a miss and instead opted for a full nights sleep.

rawk n roll...
or something like that

Despite the one table that had me reaching for the stabbing fork Saturday night was very funny. The word of the day on Saturday was mullet. Those bastions of hair rock, Whitesnake and Def Leppard where in town on Saturday and they got the kids out big time. Well maybe not the kids, but definitely the kids parents. Bad denim jackets, is there any other sort, were pulled from wardrobes all over the country and squeezed round bulks that just cant pull that look off anymore.

Oh yes by half six the restaurant was awash with mullets, bad denim, brand new AC/DC t-shirts, ill advised faded skin tight jeans, shiny new leather trousers and 40 year old men and women who should really know better. It was a mulletopia! These people spend there lives as accountants, teachers, bin men, lawyers, gardeners, and policemen (as I discovered accidentally) but tonight they would relive past glories and RAWK to the dubious musical stylings of David Coverdale and chums. It wasn't just mullets there was a hell of a lot of big eighties hair in evidence too and it wasn't just the men either!

I only discovered I was serving some policemen when I joked with them that I had to ask my dad who Whitesnake were. They laughed then one said, "You know very well who they are. You're probably 35 years old with a dodgy record collection of your own." I was taken aback. I am indeed 35 years old and there are more than a few dodgy records in my collection. But how did they know this? "It's my job to be able to identify people" he replied at half whisper, "Cops" he concluded with a little wink.

EEK, what else did he know? I went home a discarded a few records to be on the safe side.

Now being a big fat fan of stereotypes I assumed that a rock metal crowd, even if Whitesnake and Def Leppard barely make that category, would be steak munchers. How wrong was I? It was a night of low fat diets and no sauces with cream and, "can I get that as a salad?" Good grief, I was as bemused as I was amused. The rock years had obviously taken their toll and these boys and girls were now on strict calorie control diets or unable to eat red meat due to it keeping them awake all night or something as equally as weak. I wanted someone, just one person, to neck a beer in one go, or at least order a bloody beer!

Eschewing a second round of drinks most opted for some coffee, decaf of course, before they headed to the gig. It was very disappointing but also a sign of what awaits me over the next five years, a slow steady decline into safe eating and bad fashion sense. Off they went with a song in their head and a creak in their back.

And they left me to get ready for the next sitting...

..."here I go again on my own" I thought "down the only road I've ever known." I pouted, flicked my imaginary full head of rawk hair and then got on with it.