Seriously, why do people teach dogs to roll over? What possible benefit does a dog get from knowing how to roll over? It’s as if God, when she created cats, said, “OK, I want you guys to be nice enough so someone will feed you but not so nice they’ll try to teach to roll over.” Actually, most cats are jerks some of the time. Not all of the time, of course, just some of the time. “I think I handled that pretty well,” I said. I smiled, waved and said, “Thackky zackxiz uch.”Īfter Jimmy left, I sat back down in my chair, and looked at my wife and Emma. Jimmy shook my hand again, and as he walked away he stopped and said, “Hey, good luck with those tickets.” Then I must have mentioned something about a concert of his that my sister Kate helped put together in Hong Kong a few years back because Jimmy talked about Hong Kong for a few minutes.Īfter a few minutes, our chat came to an end. “He thinks he can print them off,” my wife said. “You forget your tickets?” Jimmy said with a laugh. My wife told Jimmy that I was a moron because I forgot our tickets to the concert. Jimmy listened to my wife, looked at me, nodded his head, walked over to our table, stuck out his hand and said: “Happy birthday. I started to say something to my wife when I noticed that she wasn’t in her seat. The couple started walking out first, followed by Jimmy. I have a picture of my wife standing at the gate to the house.Īfter a few minutes, Jimmy and the nice-looking couple stood up. (That’s just between you and me, by the way.) One year, some friends we met in Key West gave us directions to Jimmy’s house, and we drove by. Not, so much, so we could get married, but so maybe I could meet Jimmy Buffett. I was the one who suggested that my wife and I get married in Key West. Not in a creepy way, but - you know - in a “hey how’s it going?” way. I have been trying to meet Jimmy Buffett for more than 30 years. “What are you talking abou … OH, MY GOD!” “Look,” I whispered as we sat down at our table. But what would Jimmy Buffett be doing in Kansas City?” Sitting in the booth were a nice-looking older couple and a man who looked just like Jimmy Buffett. On the way, I glanced over at a booth to our left. We walked into the restaurant right on time, and a nice woman led us to our table. My wife called the restaurant and pushed our reservations back half an hour, which gave us time to get to our room so our 13-year-old daughter, Emma, could do whatever she does to her hair before she goes out in public. See, the trip was part of my birthday celebration, so my wife had to cut me some slack. I was hungry, and going all the way back to Carthage would cause us to get to Kansas City too late to eat dinner at the nice steak place where we had reservations. “All I need is a computer with a printer,” I said. ![]() I told my wife that since I purchased the tickets online, I could reprint them. But then I changed my mind and turned around again. We were 10 miles north of Nevada when I discovered that I didn’t have the tickets, and my wife wanted me to turn around, which I did. It was Friday night, and I had decided not to return to Carthage to retrieve our tickets to the Saturday night Jimmy Buffett concert that I had left at our home. My wife was mad at me, which was not exactly unusual. This column first ran in a newspaper on May 3, 2011.
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