Seeing this guy Jesse Cook playing flamenco guitar on PBS takes me back a decade and a half to quite nearly back in the day, when a friend of mine who was living way down in Providence, Rhode Island suggested we go out, just he and I, and take in a little culture. A flamenco guitarist, name of…I can’t remember…was playing at the Cambridge Multicultural Arts This-or-That, near the Middlesex County Courthouse in East Cambridge.
My friend was an “ol’ drinkin’ buddy,” a blue jeans-wearing regular joe with whom I’d attended untold numbers of rock concerts. For whatever reason, we both dressed in our finest (casual) clothing – something slightly north of denim – with button-down shirts and actual shoes instead of sneakers. Both of us had managed, by this point in our 30s, to fall under the spell of red wine, with all its bewitching powers and subtle nuances. And cheese plates.
Needless to say, once seated at our table, we ordered a nice bottle of wine and a plate of cheeses, and maybe even some fruit (minor detail that’s only somewhat relevant).
After the flamenco stuff, a woman came up to me and my smartly-dressed 30-something drinkin’ buddy, with whom I’d just spent an hour and a half watching a flamenco act while sipping wine and eating cheese. Said she to us, “Are you married? My son is married.”
We were, in fact, married, but not to each other, having gotten hitched to women in that boring, old fashioned sort of way that men had been doing for centuries.
That was the last time my friend and I ever went to a flamenco show. (Not that there’s anything wrong with it.)