While on date night recently, my husband and I took in the Brave New Workshopâ€™s production of A Snowplow Named Desire. We loved every moment of itâ€™s wacky hilarity, self-depreciating Minnesota humor, and bits of naughtiness. (We attended the 5 p.m. show, so the naughtiness factor grows into the later hours. Iâ€™m told.)
We had arrived a few minutes before the door was scheduled to open thinking we’d have to wait outside, but the friendly staff invited us in with a hardy, â€œWeâ€™ve been expecting you! Please come in.â€ As my husband picked up the tickets at the counter I discreetly asked where the bar was located. â€œYou canâ€™t swing a dead cat around here without hitting a bar,â€ I was told. That useful information was followed by, â€œAnd, the more you drink the funnier we are.â€
From across the room the bartenders and I made eye contact. I decided, since it WAS date night, that I should wait for my husband before sprinting across the room and pleading for a chardonnay. The woman who had let us in the door noticed my longing. â€œYouâ€™re going to stand there making awkward shuffling motions until they come to you, right?â€ I laughed. I also stayed put.
A few moments later my husband took my hand and we wandered over to the bar. I did get my chardonnay, and he followed suit. We played Farkle on his iPhone, sipped wine, and waited for the show to start. Since we had plenty of time I decided on a second glass of wine, while my husband opted for a mixed drink. It was named Dirty Panties, or, Sex on a Pool Table, or some such thing. He let me have a sip and it was good stuff, but I think he just wanted to hear me say, â€œCan I have more Sex on a Pool Table? Please?â€
ANYWAY, each time we bought a drink the bartender would give us a coupon for $1 off the next drink. Since we stopped at two apiece, my husband tucked the coupons in his pant’s pocket.
The next day we went to churchâ€”and no we werenâ€™t there to confess our misdeeds of the night before. At least I wasnâ€™t. Husbandâ€™s misdeeds? Mmmmhhhhmmm. When the collection plate came around my husband reached into his pocket to retrieve the church envelope and nearly put the $1 off drink coupons in the plate instead. We both looked at each other, tried desperately not to, but got the full-on giggles as fellow parishioners wondered why we were being disrespectful. â€œDo you think we could get a deal on the communion wine?â€ I whispered. More giggles. More shoulder shaking. More â€œI must avoid eye contact with you or I will lose it completely.â€
I chose to believe God has a sense of humor in or out of church, and getting giggles with my husband over his pocket fishing was the best part of my day.