Here ‘Tender ‘Tender

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Here ‘Tender ‘Tender
May 12, 2003

“After that spectacular show, I don’t need alcohol. But. Let’s get some, anyway. You know. Because it’s there.” I suggested.

“Heck with need. I WANT some.” Kris said.

We elbowed our way to the bar. “Where’s the bartenders?” She asked nobody in particular.

“Here ‘tender, ‘tender.” I called. Because. Maybe they were just lost.

“Relax.” Kris said. “So we get dessert first. No big deal.”

“I don’t want pie.” I pouted, spying the cases and cases of wine. “I want some of that stuff in the tall, pointy bottles.”

She pulled me away so we could cruise the munchies. It was the kind of decadent desserts they make you put big Xs over during nutrition classes. I dragged her back to the bar. It was to be our fate.

“How could there be no bartenders? Do you think the wine is only a prop?” Oh. That would be mean.

“I don’t know.” She scanned the crowd, in case there was a lost bartender looking for a home.

This event was way too posh to not be perfect. “Come on. Gina Otto put this whole evening on herself. It’s her big night. I want it to be incredible for her.”

Her book, Cassandra’s Angel had already won the Colorado Independent Publishers Award, and was a finalist in the Coalition Visionary Resources Awards. I know. That would have been enough for me. But. Gina had decided to take her book a step further by staging a play based on the story line, with some of the top talent in the Denver area.

It was a full fledged musical, and we don’t know where she found those stars, but if Broadway were looking for any new talent, um, I know some names. The entire audience was in shock. Everything from the story line to the acting to the singing to the dancing was so top notch, that we kept wondering how we were lucky enough to get invited.

“There are eight hundred thirsty audience members wandering around and no bartenders.” I worried, drumming my fingers along the bar. “Something has to be done.”

“I know.” Kris said. “I’m sure that they will be along soon.” But she didn’t sound so sure.

“Well. Do you have a corkscrew?” I asked.

She turned on me. “Do I look like the kind of woman who would have a corkscrew in her purse?” She asked, angrily.

“Um. Yes. You do.”

“Yeah. Well. I do.” She laughed. We quickly worked out a routine. She opened the bottles, and I poured out glass after glass after glass of the wondrous wine.

A real bartender did come to help us. Good thing. We were swamped.

“Excuse me. What kind of wine is this?” a kind gentleman asked.

“Red. That is RED wine.” I said, pleasantly.

“Oh. Good. Just what I wanted.”

I smiled and continued pouring.

Kris shook her head. She was a restaurant manager at some big hopping place in the Tech center. “Leave the bottle near the glass. They don’t need to know the color. They want to know the brand.”

“I’d rather tell the color.” I said. “White for you, sir?”

Poor Kris opened over one hundred forty four bottles of wine with that little purse sized corkscrew. I know. Isn’t she impressive? And. We found that not only did we get to sample the wines, it was a great way to meet men. Ok. So what if they were all posing as waiters.

“I need five glasses of wine for that table way over there.” One man said, pointing in a direction where there were no tables.

“This one is for my wife. Better fill it up. She’s really thirsty.” Another, single looking man said.

The teen stars from the play were entertaining the crowd by singing Karaoke. Only it didn’t sound like Karaoke, because they could hit all the notes, and knew all the words without reading them off a screen.

“Do you think that they practiced?” Kris asked, pausing between opening bottles to watch Gabe Ebert, the boy in the moon, singing and playing his guitar. “Or can they just automatically sing every song off the top of their heads?”

“I don’t know.” I said as Amanda Hawkins, Cassandra in the play, took the stage. I’m not a proponent of dropping out of high school, but I wonder if learning about obtuse triangles was going to be any part of her career choice. The room stopped buzzing. Everyone was ready to hear Amanda sing again.

Poor Kris never should have taken a break. “My hands are killing me. Time to upgrade this corkscrew. I’ve learned a valuable lesson tonight.” She laughed. “No cheap corkscrews in your purse. Cause. You never know when you will volunteer yourself out as a wine opener.” She rubbed her hands together, and grabbed another bottle.

I was watching Amanda. “I don’t think there is a voice coach on earth who could teach someone to sing like that. You gotta be born with it.”

“Maybe she was reincarnated. She kind of sings like Judy Garland.” Kris said as she popped open a bottle of white wine and handed it to me.

“No way. That amazing fifteen year old does not sing like a dead woman. She is way, way better.” I said, pouring out half glasses of the white stuff.

“Yeah. Well. I’d still like to see them sing on stage together.” Kris said, grabbing a bottle of red wine.

“Ok. That’s fine with me. But. It seems like if you put Judy Garland and Amanda Hawkins together…”

“What?”

“Judy would be dead weight.” (Treat yourself to Gina Otto’s Children’s book, Cassandra’s Angel by going to her web site. But. Don’t miss out on this CD. You won’t believe how incredible the lyrics are and the amazing voices on this. Amanda Hawkins is sure to be a star. Go to www.cassandrasangel.com.

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About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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