"I would have gone with you into the very fires of Mordor" ~ Aragorn

The quote is missing part of it, but I didn't want to use the full thing - part because it wouldn't all fit into the title box and part because this is not a sad story.

Authors can't be authors without getting writing material from outside sources, correct? Well, either way, I feel the need to share a story. Maybe this will be a new thing. Shall I share stories sometimes? The real life stories of Jack and her friends?

Yes, this is a true story.

My best friend, nicknamed Ben, loves musicals. (Both my girl best friends do. And both will have nicknames on my blog. But this is the story of how Ben's love of musicals got us into San Francisco, without the supervision of an adult, with cold chicken in the cooler.)

Ben has this secret longing to see the most wonderful musical ever on Broadway someday, but until that day comes she tries to see as many musicals live as she can. One day she learned of a new musical being released, one called Starry, a story of painter Vincent Van Gogh and his younger brother Theo. She warred over going to a musical she had never heard before so I and her other dear friend ganged up on her and cheered her on and she bought tickets. (I said I would go with her and drive.) (The driving is where it gets good.)

My car at the time was a rickety blazer I had named Tintin. He was dying but I was in denial. My family claimed otherwise, thankfully I had sense enough to listen to Ben and accept that he could not make the trip to San Francisco so agreed to renting a car. We rented a small car, which would be good on gas, and be small so we could sneak through the city with the other small cars and not get run down by all the mad rush.

I went to pick up the rental without Ben. The rental lady had me sign the papers and explained the usual. The small cars were gone, but they had another, great on gas, bigger but no extra charge. This happened every time I rented a car so I was not worried, until she took me out and showed me said..."car". It was a truck. I have grown up driving big trucks, so I can safely say, that was a big truck. I could have kelled over on the spot. I got in the huge truck, drove home and called Ben. She could have kelled over on the phone.

(Note, Ben and I are country girls. You will realize this as the story goes on. I grew up a Wyoming girl, in a tiny town where cowboys still herded cows down main street. Ben grew up in a small mountain town. We're not city girls. We don't go out to eat at fancy restaurants. Our idea of "eating fancy" is to buy the $40 wine at the store which has been knocked on sale for $10 and have it with homemade pasta...and if you don't think that is fancy you, sir, are missing out.)

The musical got out late so we rented a hotel room. The trip was racking up in price so, to save on money, we decided we would just take dinner with us. Ben baked chicken and then cooled it and packed it in a cooler so we could eat it before the musical. We were set. We set off on our mini road trip. Two legal aged adults in a huge rental truck to one of the biggest cities in California. We had this.

We chatted as we drove through California. We laughed. We had deep conversations. Ben pulled out the tickets half way there and got oddly silent.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"These are not for tonight?"

I was confused. "What?" "I looked!!" She was getting worried. "I double, double checked before I bought them!! These are for last night!!" "What?!"

(Note, this is not where it starts, it started with the huge truck.)

Panic stricken, Ben called the theater.

She explained.

The nice theater person said it should be fine, but we had to bring the tickets in and explain when we got there.

*Breathe*

But now Ben couldn't stop eyeing those tickets.

What was this? "Dinner theater?"

Me, who was once to a dinner theater and got to throw fluffy balls at the villian...: "What?"

"We have to eat there?"

She called again.

The man who answered this time said no, we did not have to eat there if we did not so wish.

Close call.

We got to our hotel and unpacked. We sat on the floor and realized we had no forks. But, why go ask the front desk man for them? Naw, we sat on the floor and devoured our food bare handed. Then we dressed pretty - heels and make-up and dainty dresses. We were ready.

...

You can laugh.

We drove to the theater. A man waited and stopped us. I rolled down the giant truck window and the young man smiled.

"Hello, I am the valet. Would you like to give me the key and I shall park your car?"

Ben and I eyed each other. We thought the same thing.

Give the key up, of a giant truck that was not ours?

Who voiced it first? Does it matter? Because we both said the same thing during this part. Could have been me who asked first.

Me: "Give you the key?"

Valet: "Yes, then I will park it."

Ben: "Then we get the truck back?"

Valet: *Amused* "Yes."

Me: "I just give you the key?"

Valet: "Yes, and I park it."

Me: "But we come out, and get the truck back?"

(Ahem...this went on for a bit. He was amused.)

Finally.

Valet: "How about this, I will park it, and then come back and give you the key and show you where I parked it and after you can go and get it?"

This made us feel better so we agreed. I am sure he tells this story to his kids to this day. "So these two county girls wouldn't give up their truck..."

We took our key and entered the wrong place, followed a couple to the right place, and explained the ticket mishap...we got in. We were sat by the stage, at a table with high bar stools - this is important so remember this - with a lady by herself.

The stage was tiny so the actors used the whole room. Also there was a mistake, we did have to order food, two items each. (Also important, so remember this as well.)

We were seated, happy to have gotten in. Our dinning neighbor sipped her water. The waiter appeared and took her order, then came to us. We declined food, full on cooled chicken which we had eaten bare handed while seated upon the floor of a hotel room.

"Okay," the waiter said, "but you must order two items each before the show ends."

"Oh," Ben replied, she eyed me, "well, we will take two of the cheese cakes - one now and one later. We will split it."

My brain didn't see how that worked, but I was too excited to argue. The waiter looked confused, our dinning neighbor annoyed.

Her worries only began.

Ben's chair was in a hole. A small one, but it set her lop sided. She kept trying to move it, but couldn't get it out of the hole. It was one leg off balance. So she wobbled. In one final effort to get herself out of the hole she grabbed the table and gave a mighty jerk...and knocked over our dinning neighbor's glass of water onto her lap.

In that moment alone did I pretend to not know Ben as she slunk into her chair and the show began.

We watched the show. We enjoyed cheese cake. All was well.

Then there was intermission.

As the lights went up we chatted together, sharing our thoughts. Then the waiter returned. Poor Ben, assuming she had settling matters in ordering two cheese cakes earlier, could not understand why he had returned. I tried to explain we needed to order two more things as she told him we would share the final cheese cake and our dinning neighbor wore a look of disbelief. Finally the waiter just smirked, a look of "country girls" and said the one other cheese cake was fine and he would bring it.

Content all with food was well I settled back and slipped into my childish...short?...habit of swinging my legs to and fro when I am in a chair which is far too tall for me. I sat perched in my bar stool, dressed as a lady in a dainty dress and heels and make-up...swinging my feet like a toddler as the actors got back into place. The actor playing Theo Van Gogh passed me in that moment...and I kicked him right in the shin.

Perhaps that is how the night ended. But not really. The musical was wonderful and we had a grand time. But the whole event left us in a fit of giggles, so when we returned to our room we passed the front desk man holding to each other and laughing as if we had been to one too many bars. We got to our room, but the key didn't work, therefore we had to return and ask to have it reset. I could see in his eyes what he thought we had been up to, but he was so far from the truth he was not even in the same country.

So yes, I would follow Ben into Mordor, but I would sooner follow her into another of our wonderful, and crazy, adventures.