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Sometimes in life we say things that, almost as soon as the first syllable is made, we wish we could shove them back into our gaping mouth hole.  We have all been there, stammering like a fool, trying to either back track what we said or apologizing for being such a clod that we didn’t see the obvious before speaking.  Recently I was within spitting distance of having such an embarrassing moment.  I ran right up to the cliff, but managed to stop before hurling myself into the abyss. 

Three weeks ago I was at my favorite night spot, New Gracanica. I am in the thick of wedding season right now, so I’ve been there quite a bit in the past months.  I came to the realization recently that the church hall functions as a nightclub on the weekends.  In the summer the hall is open every weekend, and every weekend there is a wedding there.  And at every wedding there is live music, dancing, loud conversations, smiles and an open bar.  The only difference between the church hall and a club?  A cover charge, bouncers and snotty bartenders.  New Gracanica has become a favorite hot spot.

So there I was, leaning on the bar, drink in hand partying like a Kennedy.  Dinner was over, the band was crankin’, women were dancing and the night was gaining momentum.  Drinks at that point had been going down pretty steady and I was feelin’ good.  Not the kind of good that leads to embarrassing moments, because I didn’t jump of the cliff remember, but the kind of good that loosens me just enough to ask a question that I would normally leave alone.  As I sipped on my drink a familiar face approached.  I had seen him earlier in the night but didn’t have a chance to say hello.  While we stood there drinkin’ and yappin’ I noticed that he was wearing a black jacket and a black shirt, to a wedding. 

This was me running up to the cliff.

“Excuse me”, I said nudging him on the elbow, “I noticed you are wearing all black”.

I have seen this guy and some of his family members enough recently that I would have heard if there had been any problems lately so I felt safe asking my next question.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but,  who died?”

He immediately stopped drinking, lowered his arm and took a look down at himself.  His jacket, his shirt, his pants and then he looked at me.  Time was moving in slow motion.   Then he realized what he was wearing and how it must look to me and to many others.

“No one died man.  See?  Look, I’m wearing grey pants.”

So there I was, standing firmly on the cliff.  Saved!

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