Blind Date

Kathy’s fight or flight instincts kicked in hard as soon as she saw him…proud as a peacock in his gleaming cherry red Gremlin singing along to Supertramp’s Breakfast in America…pull into the parking lot. She reminded herself to never ever go another blind date…she also reminded herself to throttle Gayle (“he’s a fun guy…you’ll love him”) the next time she saw her.

He fairly danced out of the car…singing “The Logical Song” without once hitting a correct note…and ran up to greet her. Kathy shied back from his attempted hug and they shook hands instead.

Gary…that was his name…was a sight to behold in his three-piece bright white suit, black shirt open down to the middle of his chest (which was covered with a forest of thick black hair), bright white platform shoes (shining like a new dime), gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses (which must have made the world seem awfully gloomy seeing as how it was well past sunset), and enough gold chains to make Mr. T envious back in the day. Kathy wondered if perhaps they were going to a costume party and she hadn’t been given the memo.

Kathy tried to think of what it was she could have possibly done to Gayle to deserve this…and then she remembered that Gayle fancied herself a prankster and Kathy realized that she should have known better. She was glad at least that she’d agreed to meet in a neutral place as she was pretty sure she didn’t want Gary knowing where she lived.

Kathy’s head immediately filled with static after he said “Hey, foxy mama” so she only heard snatches of his chipper monologue as she allowed herself to be led to the passenger seat of the Gremlin (which was, she had to admit, amazingly immaculate.) Gary, chattering away while chewing his Doublemint gum, didn’t seem to notice.

Gary said something about “mood music” and switched the Supertramp cassette for a K.C. and the Sunshine Band cassette. Gary drove and bopped his head and sang (no closer to being on key with this song than he had been with the Supertramp tunes)…that’s the way…uh-huh…I like it…uh-huh, uh-huh…said words at Kathy; Kathy wondered idly if jumping out of the car at the speed it was going would hurt very much.

The club they ended up at was, Kathy imagined, just like Studio 54 back in the seventies…that is, if Studio 54 were a sweaty, dingy, murky hole in the wall dive in a neighborhood most people wouldn’t (or rather would very like be) caught dead in after dark. Lots of people in the club…dressed in enough bright rainbow shades of polyester and gold lame to almost (almost) cut through the haze…seemed to know Gary and he basked in their boozy adoration (Kathy thought that she heard him introduce her to a puffy guy in a lime green leisure suit as “my lady” but her mind refused to try to grasp onto that concept and the thought died a merciful death of denial and sanity preservation.)

Gary led her to “his table” and a waitress…a bored bleached blonde who apparently had put on her makeup with a shovel (and in the dark)…asked what they would have. Gary ordered a rum and coke with a Jose Jimenez accent that he thought was both hilarious and charming.

Kathy ordered beer. Lots and lots of beer.

It took almost two beers before Kathy acquiesced to Gary’s incessant offers to dance when his favorite Village People song thumped through the club’s speakers. Gary, almost as a matter of course, danced no better than he sang and Kathy spent most of the time on the dance floor making sure his white platform shoes didn’t crush down on her stylish but comfortable pumps while idly wondering why it was so much fun to stay at the YMCA.

The rest of the evening was a blur for Kathy. She drank beer, stared down leering disco dancers who had…surprise, surprise…come to the club without dates, and watched Gary’s lips move incessantly (at one point she thought she might have heard him introduce her to someone as his “new girlfriend” but that was too absurd a concept to dwell upon for longer than a nanosecond so she happily let it go.)

There had to be a time machine to take her back to the 21^st Century somewhere around there, Kathy thought as she glanced around the club.

Gary put on some chill out music…Barry White, of course…for the ride back to the mall where Kathy’s car was. The static in her head cleared just a bit too much and, much to her chagrin, she found that she could make out most of the song…I’ve got so much to give…to you my dear…as interpreted by Gary (who was emphasizing his passion by giving her what Kathy was sure he thought were his best, most seductive bedroom eyes.) Barry White was probably rolling over in his grave, she thought…and then the thought of graves made her think of Gayle and that made her smile.

Kathy was opening the door before the Gremlin had drawn to a complete stop. Gary leaned over for a kiss and Kathy deftly offered him a fleeting taste of her cheek. Gary asked if he could call her and Kathy said “sure” and rattled off seven random numbers before she bolted out of the door.

Kathy waited in her car…her safe, reliable, conservatively painted 21^st Century Honda Civic…until she was sure Gary was far down the road before she was sure it was safe to drive home.