Belle
Not to be confused with Bella, my orange cat.
I went to DaDa for the St. Patrick’s Day parade in Delray yesterday.
They aren’t normally open on Saturday. So it was a treat to hear they Bruce was going to be grilling corned beef brisket and bangers outside for a few hours till they did their regular open.
I arrived and said hi to Carlos. He said, “Dawn!” and shook my hand.
I might go there A BIT.
He said pick a seat and of course I went under the banyan tree where I normally sit with my friends. “Dawn’s table!” he said.
Carlos said it’s not the normal menu; just the Irish stuff till five. I said you know I’ve had everything on your menu 20 times over. Excited to see what Bruce is up to today.
I didn’t see any of the usual servers. Tara came over and introduced herself. She is from outside the SubCulture Group, asked by her manager to lend Carlos a hand.
Not just a hand — she was the lone server for the whole restaurant.
Luckily half the outside was taken up by the Gypsy Strings Revival. Who came over to ask if I’d get a few pics of them since they’ve never had the whole band all together at once.
It was a big band. Also, one of the gents had lost his wife recently. So, this was their first time being back together as a whole.
We all got to talking about my green and gold nails. I also pointed out the purple for Mardi Gras, as I’d just spent some time in NOLA and I wanted to make sure I had nails that were also fitting for Paddy’s Day.
Well.
So at some point, they dedicated a song to the girl who just came back from Mardi Gras. Which was so sweet.
And as I was the only person who was sitting alone, when the band said they were dedicating a song to Belle, I perked up. Yes because of my cat.
The singer said someone here just lost a spouse and this is their first outing alone.
I cried. I fucking cried.
Out of nowhere, one of the men at the next table ran up and hugged me. I said thank you.
It hit me that they thought I was WIDOWED. Because I was alone.
Like no I just randomly cry all the time. But I didn’t say that.
Figured just shut my trap and keep drinking.
We did all get to talking across the table, but not about that.
Later his wife ran over and hugged me. A few times. Our Guinness espresso martinis had kicked in.
She was so so so sweet. She said, “It must be so hard going through life without your best friend.”
Now THAT I could relate to.
Momma and I would always order corned beef from Flanigan’s. But DaDa is my home (obviously) and that’s where I spent all my birthdays and, most recently, Thanksgiving. Of course I was going to go for Paddy’s.
When they all left, she hugged me one more time and said I love that you are getting out of the house. And I hope you meet a man with a BIG OLD DONG.
I said I will take a BIG OLD WALLET.
And of course, we agreed, hey, let’s hope for both!
Bruce brought out my food and we had a lovely chat.
Tara said Bruce doesn’t normally serve the tables. We were all chatting about how awesome you are and wanted to meet you.
As Kenny Chesney and many others have sang, “I Love This Bar.”
Tara took a couple breaks with me, under the banyan tree. Turns out we’re the same age and live on the same street.
Her brother’s girlfriend is a Dawn and, of course, I have my Tara from New York.
We exchanged numbers and she said she was going to order my favorite drink, the Divine Gesture, when she got off at 5.
In fact, while I liked my Guinness espresso martini and the Tito’s green Mary (which I wish I’d ordered in the opposite order.
The Mary was spicy when I was looking for sweet. But still awesome), I wasn’t sure what to do for my third drink.
Tara said hey I talked to the bartender and he said he’ll make you anything off the regular menu.
Divine Gesture, ahoy!
I hugged my new friend Tara on my way out, tipped well and stumbled down to the beach.
Other than the fools in “Drink Up, Fuckers” FOTUS shirts and the other Nazis in “Gulf of America ’25” hats, it was a fantastic day.
One of the best I’ve had not just in the past sad nine months, but maybe in the past nine years.
Deleted an email from Brooklyn Beetlejuice unread to end the day.
Sorry to say the blood moon eclipse shook that one out.
Also Kelly and I had just talked about him on Friday night, so of course his dick pointed south.
Anyway. I also told her about the (redacted) Senior Vice President I met at (redacted) last weekend.
Who looked me up (I didn’t give him my number; he put together a couple conversational clues) and wants to see me again.
So, no, BB, why would I want to talk to you when there are people who actually ask me questions and want to hear what I have to say, instead of the other way around?
Anyway, Slainte to all who don’t wear USA shit to a St. Patrick’s Day parade.
And love to Belle, who’s making the journey my Momma just made.
I haven’t felt Momma around me for a couple weeks. Maybe she’s found some peace. Maybe she’s reincarnated. Maybe she’s giving me some space to figure this all out.
And maybe, just maybe, she and Belle were doing a river dance on Dada’s cobblestones, unseen but always loved.