LARGETONY Blog

Anniversary plans always go a little wrong on TV shows.

Fred buys Wilma a piano for their anniversary and it turns out to be stolen. Ricky gets a female friend to hold Lucy’s anniversary pearls and Lucy thinks they are having an affair.

And so how it goes in real life sometimes: Tony plans a private afternoon in the mountains with the Attorney and he keeps getting cock-blocked by circumstance.

Even though it bounces around from year to year, I look at Good Friday as sort of an anniversary for me and the Attorney because we first met on Good Friday in 2005. It was a year and a half before we met for the second time, but I had a good feeling about him (but was afraid to act on it) from the start. So, as far as I’m concerned that Good Friday was really the Best Friday.

In honor of that Good Friday (which was also in March that year, so I’m close) and taking advantage of a day when we were both off work, I made plans for us to hop in his convertible, drive to a secluded mountain spot, and have a nice little picnic.

First wrench in the plans: The NCAA Basketball tournament schedule is announced and Tennessee is playing at 12:15pm. Right in the middle of our trip. I didn’t know what to do. Anniversaries come every year. But Tennessee’s men’s team making the tournaments (and with a high seed) don’t.

I didn’t want to cut the day short and be home by noon to see the game. I didn’t want to wait until after the game to start the day. And I didn’t want to cancel my plans. The Attorney kept a cool head said we could take a radio along and enjoy the game while we enjoy our lunch.

So, we met Friday morning and headed off to a secret place I know. The top was down, the lunch was packed, and a portable radio was on the tiny back seat. Everything was perfect.

Perfect until I found out that the road to my secret place has been blocked off since I was there last.

No big deal. I knew another secret spot. Unfortunately it turned out to be a spot that, judging by the 3-4 families there ahead of us, was not so secret anymore.

I knew of other places, but there was no way we would get there in his sports car. I realized we should have taken my truck. Not as sexy and romantic, but would have gotten us away from the rest of the world. Finally I did figure out a place where we could securely park his car and walk a bit further.

And so we did.

We found a little clearing by a creek bed and set up our day camp. Blankets. Food. Cooler. Radio. And us. What more could we need?

Radio reception.

After attempting a walk through the creek (the water was waaaaaaaay too cold still) we decided to dial in the pre-game. But we couldn’t get a strong enough signal. At least not from the station we needed.

Neither one of us was going to be able to stand not knowing how the game was going. I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again: Anniversaries come every year. But Tennessee’s men’s team making the tournaments (and with a high seed) don’t.

So, on to plan “C” (or is it really like “E” or “F” at this point?)

We didn’t want to lose more time hunting for a spot that got reception . It was too close to tip-off (game start time for you non-ballers) to drive home and watch it on TV. Once again, the attorney came through. His suggestion: hit the interstate and find the closest motel with cable TV.

And so we did. (Not the closest motel. Not sure we would have come out of it alive, whether it be because of a slasher or some flesh-eating bacteria that was no doubt being bred there.)

I can only imagine what we must have looked like: An older man and a slightly younger man in a ridiculously expensive convertible checking into a motel in the middle of the day with no luggage. But the clerk didn’t seem to take notice or have a problem. Nor when we checked out about four and a half hours later.

We sat on the bed, eating our Italian sandwiches (ham, prosciutto, salami, pepperoni, provolone) and pound cake (home made) watching the Vols win a poorly played game. A little making out during halftime, a little more and a nap and shower after.

That was our hot piano. Our secret pearls. Our Good Friday.

Maybe not the best Good Friday. But a good one nonetheless.

That Good Friday of 2005 will probably always be the best, because with out it, there would not have been so many good ones to follow.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 22nd, 2008 at 1:48 pm and is filed under attorney, dating and sex. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.