I Went to The Prince Last Tuesday

Hadn’t been in years. The music was terrible. Just absolutely terrible, unbelievably so for the decor, just like it always had been. This guy started pounding on the piano, really super fucking and inappropriately loud, only he wasn’t pounding out Chopin, he wasn’t pounding Blue Rondo a la Turk, he wasn’t pounding Rimsky-Korsakov, no no no, he was pounding out cheese-ass versions of “Take My Breath Away” and what have you. Then a dining patron decided that he, too, needed to take a turn on the piano, ordered up a cocktail and really started going for it. After twenty minutes or so of this hilarious nonsense, he finished up with some sort of tinkly flourish, took a bow and returned to his table. But then of course the original guy returned and pounded the fuck out of a few more ballads, for good measure. This was all nearly too loud for my companions and I to even be able to hold a simple conversation. Finally piano guy took a break, walked up to the DJ booth and put on one of those CDs of incredibly shitty, unlistenable sugary Korean pop that make you want to hurl your soju and fling your tiny Hite beer glass at the velvety red wall. It was time to go. The one thing I recall telling Betty before leaving was, “If you can’t figure out a way to leave work by 6pm like all of the married people and all the people with kids, you have officially lost the battle with The Man. Good luck at life.” Have a nice weekend all.