Name That Tune.

There is a local restaurant that my wife and I frequent here in Michigan.
It is a bit swanky, and we frequent it when we are in a bit of a swanky mood.
The food there is consistently wonderful.
Maybe better than any other restaurant that we frequent.
Great bread.
Great Caesar Salad.
Great entrees.
Great desserts.
Great service.
My wife has always looked forward to going there.
I have always dreaded it.
In spite of the great bread, great Caesar Salad, great entrees, great desserts, and great service.
"What more can you ask for?" you ask?
Only one thing.
That they get rid of the omnipresent piano player who is ALWAYS there.
I have always made it a point to the headwaiter that we be seated as far away from the piano player as is humanly possible.
He usually complies, and this helps somewhat.
But sometimes he can't, and we are subjected to the worst piano playing this side of Ernest Borgnine's Fatso Jutson in "From Here To Eternity".
Actually, it's on the other side.
Fatso only played polkas.
The restaurant pianist played "dinner music".
"Cocktail music".
Music that required a much more delicate touch.
Do any of you recall the album "An Evening With Jonathan and Darlene Edwards"?
It was the alter egos of Jo Stafford and her husband Paul Weston.
They sang and played "Cocktail Music".
She deliberately sang off-key, and he accompanied her off the beat, with fumbly fingers.
It has always been as if this restaurant pianist took private lessons from Jonathan Edwards.
Except that the restaurant pianist wasn't accompanying anyone but himself.
He played popular tunes that he virtually dared anyone to guess what they were.
You couldn't possibly guess what they were in the first eight bars.
Or the first sixteen bars.
Having a much better musical ear than my wife, it usually fell to me to figure out what, in fact, the hell he was playing.
And there was a moment of triumph when I eventually DID figure out what he was playing.
So last time we were there, I turned it into a game.
A game of "Name That Tune".
I actually let it become part of the fun of the dining experience.
Of course, like most other restaurant pianists, he had CDs of his selections available for purchase.
I seriously considered buying one.
That way, we would have the "Name That Tune" home game to play whenever we wanted to.
I stopped myself.
I realized that I would never, ever play the "Name That Tune" home game.
I'd never want to.

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