I'll be sure to practice piano before I go back home again

I've been busy this week and trying to get to bed earlier, so I haven't gotten to post about K's and my crazy weekend. Things went well during our time with CG and Joe (even through my cranky attitude, which I think I did a great job hiding until they'd left -- sorry K!). We left Saturday afternoon to go see my dad and his girlfriend back home. We went out to dinner that night at this place my dad's been a member of for quite a while. There was a band playing that night that my dad's girlfriend really likes.

The restaurant is shaped sort of like a giant "Y," if the upper legs of the "Y" go straight up rather than out at an angle. So the lower leg of this giant "Y" is the dance floor and restaurant area. The two legs of the "Y" are two different bars. I have no idea what the difference is, other than to tell you that in one bar the two bartenders were bad dressers and not very friendly, and on the other side -- which was much less crowded -- the bartenders were dressed much cuter (since their clothes actually fit them and they weren't hanging out of them) and were more likeable.

We had quite a little group there -- my dad, his girlfriend, me, K, my uncle and my a family friend. We went to the less crowded bar and started talking to the bartenders. We were having a good time, and my dad's gf and I took a shot my uncle recommended. Then, the bartender made us another she swore we'd like better since it was more girly (but it had the consistency of cough syrup). Which turned into her making another one for us to try. By that time, she'd decided she really liked us, so when she'd accidentally made way too much for two shots, she gave my dad's gf part of the extra, which meant she got a whole other shot for free, and the last of it to me, which meant I got an extra half a shot.

It was at that time that someone asked about a picture, and I decided to pull my camera out to take pictures of everyone. We were having a great time.

My uncle was in OK on work, so he was talking to his wife on tEe phone in the back corner of the bar. My dad and his gf suggested I take his picture too. It was after I took his picture that I looked over and saw it, there in the back of the bar: a piano!

I used to take piano lessons. I started in the fourth grade, and my mom didn't let me quit until junior year in high school. I was pretty decent, but I would've been awesome if I'd ever actually practiced, since it came so easily for me. I sat down and started playing one of my favorites, "Turkish March," by Mozart. The piano was old and out of tune, and several of the keys were sticking or making no sound at all, so the piano was a bit difficult to play. We were the only ones on that side of the bar though, really. There were people at one table close the entrance of that bar, but they were much closer to the live band. I wasn't thinking anything of it -- I figured they wouldn't be able to hear me over the band.

I was wrong.

Soon after I started playing, I heard yelling. Then, I realized what they were saying. It was sprinkled with four-letter words (mainly the one beginning with "F"), and they weren't impressed by my playing. I was just goofing off, so I was confused. I heard one of the two women at the table yell, "Get the f$%^ off the piano if you can't even play 'Chopsticks.'" So I started playing "Chopsticks."

She kept yelling. I said to her, "If you can do better, you're welcome to have at it." After about five seconds more of playing, I decided it wasn't worth hearing them complain, so I rejoined our group at the bar. I'd been sitting there for a good 15 seconds, and the three jerkfaces at the table at the front of the bar were still complaining. Still.

I turned to my dad's gf and said, "I think they want me to play some more!" I walked back over to the piano and -- just in case my shots were impairing my playing abilities -- began playing "Fur Elise," which anyone who has ever learned how to play "Chopsticks" can play on the piano. Only I was playing the real version. Since I'm pretty sure I could play a fair amount of that well in my sleep, I know it didn't sound bad. The table of three wasn't pleased.

They kept cursing at me. My dad said to them, "She's not doing anything wrong. It sounds fine. Leave her alone." Since I was at the back of the bar, I'm not sure I heard everything he said, but I do know (because I know my dad, and because his gf told me) that my dad did curse back at them eventually. K told me later on that sometime during this, the one man at the table of three flipped them off. He said, "See this? I got it on sale at Target."

"That's so original. I've never heard that before," K said back to him (I did hear that part, and K wasn't cursing back at them). (For those of you who haven't seen it, that "on sale at Target" line while showing the finger is from Talladega Nights.)

Everything was happening quickly, but shortly after I heard K say that, I heard the bartender yell, "He's causing trouble, he's causing trouble and he's causing trouble." I later found out that when she said this, to be fair, she pointed at my dad, K and the man at the other table. They brought the manager out, who happens to be a friend of my family (and who happened to tell me in high school that he wished I would be his daughter-in-law). By then, I had gotten up and headed back to the bar, realizing the whole thing was getting much more serious than an argument over a piano should ever get.

The manager was asking either us or the other group to move to the other bar. I went up to him and apologized. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble," I told him. "But honestly, no one ever came up and asked me to stop. They just started yelling about it."

He told me not to worry and that I hadn't done anything wrong. When the table of three saw all this, they kept heckling us and saying things to us. We were all ignoring them, and the manager was still talking to us. I heard them say something about how it "sure does smell bad over here," so they were leaving to go to the other bar.

What's funny is that after they'd moved, I headed toward the bathroom. I had to walk past the band, whose members were gathering their equipment since they were finished for the night. I noticed the man from the table of three coming out of the men's room a few feet in front of me when the band members stopped me to ask what the fuss was about.

"What was going on back there? Were those people yelling about the piano? It didn't sound bad." They'd heard it all happening when their set ended (that was about when the whole ordeal was beginning). I laughed when they said that because I know my new friend had to have heard it when he was leaving the bathroom.

I had no idea going back home to my tiny little town could be so eventful. I haven't seen that much action at bars in Dallas, that's for sure. Then again, I've never tried to play the piano at a bar in Dallas, either.