Alice is as Alex does.

I’ve had several people ask me who Alice is. You see, Alice is a friend of mine. Well, “friend” might be too strong a word to describe him. Ah, you’re confused aren’t you? Alice, him? I’ve gotten my English/grammar confused again haven’t I? Not really. Let me explain.

Not so long ago I had a customer in California. I’d visit this customer 2 – 3 times a month. This went on for three years. I would fly out to Monterey on Monday so I could be on site first thing Tuesday morning. Usually, I’d spend three days on site and then fly home on Friday. The Account Manager (Alex) would go with me once a month or so.

Eventually, this trip got to be routine. Monday night I would stop by the London Bridge Pub for a couple of Guinness and a fish and chips dinner. Tuesday, dinner was at the little fish place on the Pier or Sushi depending who came along. Wednesday was reserved for dinner with the customer at Tarpys Road House. Thursday typically ended up being burgers and beer, then a few games of pool. I typically took the first flight home Friday morning. That usually meant up at 5:00 AM so I could make the 6:30 AM to LA. It was all very predictable, and very boring.

After almost three years, the list of projects that was keeping me busy out in sunny California came to an end. The last day of my last trip was reserved for wrap-up with the customer. Alex had accompanied me on this trip. His job was to thank the customer for their business and mine for more. The day ended up being rather short. Our meetings went smoothly and quickly. We were headed out by 2:00 PM. On the way back to the Hotel, Alex suggested we grab an early dinner, a couple of cocktails and call it a day. Sounded like a good idea to me, after all, we needed to be up and out by 5:00 AM to catch a flight.

On the way to Monterey, Alex suggested we deviate from our normal, boring routine. Basically he said he was sick of Tarpys, Sushi, Pool and the London Bridge Pub. He said that since this was our last night we should try something new. So this time instead of heading to the Pier we headed into Downtown Monterey. Monterey is a kind of an upscale, artsy kind of place. As such, they travel to the beat of a different drummer. They are accepting of all manner of oddity.

One of the things we hadn’t noticed in our three years going out to Calif. was that none of the restaurants open before 5:00. I guess it’s kind of a nouveau California thing. There we were, walking around downtown looking for a restaurant or bar that was open. There was not a one to be found. Not even a McDonalds. Eventually Alex started stopping people on the street to ask if anyone knew of some place we could at least get a drink. Everyone had the same response. Nothing opens before 5:00 PM. Finally, he stopped a women who recommended we try some hotel at the top of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. She thought they might have a restaurant and it might be open. It might be open because, the hotel isn’t really in Monterey.

We found the hotel and restaurant. Just like the woman said, it was at the top of the cliffs, overlooking the Pacific. The building was amazing. When you first entered, you walked into the lounge. The lounge was huge. It was wood paneled floor to ceiling. There was a bar in the center and along the outer wall there were floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The ceiling had to be 12 feet tall. At one end was a gigantic fireplace at the other was a grand piano. In front of the windows were seating areas. These seating areas had sofas and coffee tables. There were no “bar tables” anywhere. At the back corner was the hostess for the restaurant. We sauntered over to put our names in for dinner. The Hostess informed us that the restaurant didn’t open for an hour. Not a problem, we’ll just have a couple of drinks and wait. At this point, there were a grand total of four people in the place: Alex, the Hostess, a bartender and me. I started to stroll around the lounge to check things out. Alex stayed to talk to the hostess for a minute. Soon I was at the far end of the lounge checking out the piano and enjoying the view of the ocean.

You know how they say that even in a room full of crying children, a mother can pick out the sound of her own baby, or that somehow you can always pick out someone saying your name from across the room, even in a crowd? What happened next I suppose is kind of like that. I was all the way across the lounge. I couldn’t tell what Alex and the hostess were discussing. All of a sudden I heard “murmur, murmur, murmur, murmur IT’S OUR FIRST DATE.” I heard that last part like it had been shouted through the PA system. I closed the gap between me and Alex before he could finish putting the period on that sentence.

I looked at Alex and asked “What did you just say?” Alex looked at me and responded “Don’t worry; I’ve got it taken care of.” The hostess looked at me and smiled lovingly. I asked “Did you just say this was our first date?” Alex looked at the hostess and said “He’s shy.” The Hostess looked at me and said “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” To which I responded “Hey, I’m married, to a woman AND I have two kids!”. Alex looked at the hostess again and responded “He’s hasn’t decided to come out yet.” The hostess looked at me and said “don’t worry, we’re discreet.” I said “DISCREET!!!, OK, but I like women. Really. I’m married.” At this point Alex informed the hostess that yes, I am married to a woman, but that I’m getting a divorce so that I can embrace my true inner self. The more I protested the more ammo it gave Alex. And he was good. He kept explaining away my protests as “insecurities”. After all, it was my first time. And the hostess loved it. She was very reassuring. For me, it was a losing battle. Alex was enjoying making me uncomfortable, and this woman thought the whole scene is adorable.

Eventually I went to the bar and ordered a drink. A good stiff drink. A double. A double Beefeater martini. Put it in a water glass and keep it coming please. I took my drink and sat by the windows. Alex came drifting over and he was wearing a Cheshire Cat grin. He sat down. I told him I wasn’t happy. His response was”Don’t worry, no one knows you here.” We’re going back and forth a little bit when all of a sudden the Hostess appears with two glasses of white wine. She looked at us lovingly and asked about our first “spat”. She said the wine was on the house in honor of our first date. Maybe it would get me to relax. I looked at Alex. I just wanted to stand up and punch him. The whole time he’s just smiling and snickering. Soon the Hostess came back, this time she was carrying an assortment of horderves. Again it was “on the house, for the new couple.”

Soon it was 5:00 and time to be seated for dinner. Alex walked in first. As he’s was being shown to a table I heard him ask for something “romantic”. Could it get any worse?

We got a lovely table. It was a window table. It overlooked the cliffs and the ocean. It was around the side, in a little alcove. It was a nice quite cozy little spot from which to watch the sunset and have a romantic dinner. Maybe I’ll go sit in the car.

We ordered dinner. As we were waiting for our salads to arrive, the waiter came over and gave us a couple of egg drinks. I don’t really know what they were. I figured they were egg drinks because they were served in egg shells. We were told they were from the chef. I looked around the restaurant. No one else got cute little egg drinks. After the salad, again two glasses of wine showed up. We were told they were “from the staff”. We were also given a special sorbet to cleanse our palates between courses. Again compliments of the chef. I looked around and didn’t notice anyone else getting palate cleansing sorbets. While waiting for dessert, the chef sent us tiny little custards. By this point, I had given up trying to see if anyone else was getting this “special” treatment. The intention was clear.

As we were leaving, the hostess asked if we needed a room. I said NO! She said she thought we were a cute couple and wished us well. I saw her grab Alex and say a few words. He smiled and laughed. I don’t want to know what she said. I figure I’m better off not knowing.

In the final analysis, on my last trip to California I had a nice romantic dinner overlooking the ocean from the cliffs right outside of Monterey. I was treated like royalty. The wait staff couldn’t have been nicer, the meal couldn’t have been better. Unfortunately for me, I had to have this romantic experience with Alex, a 6 foot 3 inch 280 pound 60 year old bald Italian guy from Brooklyn.

I have referred to my partner from this story as ALICE ever since. For all of those who have been wondering why I call him ALICE, now you know. Fitting, don’t you think?