"With words," she said.

I don't know about you, but I could look at that picture of the Fiji water bottles everyday. I suspect that if you come here everyday (and if you do, thank you - it's always nice to have you), a picture of Fiji water bottles won't sustain your interest. So I'll update and share a story from my super popular weekend.

To start, please recall the bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne from a couple posts ago. Remember? Okay.

I didn't consume that champagne on Valentine's Day. I didn't consume it on Friday. I didn't consume it on Sunday. In fact, it is at home, in my suitcase, wrapped in a pair of chinos, unopened. Here's why:

On Sunday night, I went to dinner at the Ocean Club in Scottsdale. We were picked up at Cambelback Inn in a Lincoln Navigator. Our driver was really impressed when I said, "Um we're going to dinner not to sell drugs." He was over the moon when I asked if he'd play some rap, call us ballers, and let me know if we were riding dirty. We of course got to the restaurant in record time.

For my part, recognizing that this was a very fancy, highroader restaurant, I decided to contribute my bottle of champagne to the dinner. We walked into the restaurant, I was carrying the bottle of champagne, and the hostess looked at me and smiled. "Arizona does not have a corkage fee," she said. "Awesome!" I exclaimed. (I thought this was tremendously hospitable of the Arizona legislature and reflected ruefully on the conservative, non-forward thinking, "this baby is black" legislature at home.) "No, sir," she replied, "that means we won't be able to open that for you." "Well, that sucks," I said. (And then I took back the nice thoughts I had about the Arizona legislature and hoped that the Utah legislature would never, ever give Arizona any of our hard-earned water.)

We were taken to our table and I'm not kidding when I tell you that me carrying that bottle of champagne turned many a diner's head. We were seated and our waiter promptly apologized for not being able to serve our bottle. I said I understood, and since the bottle was already chilled, I asked if he'd keep it on ice. He did.

For dinner, there was steak, lobster bisque, and a chilled seafood tower. I'll post a picture for all the foodies out there:



Delicious, right? (Sister, you don't have to answer.) Right. Dinner was complimented by the sweet sound of live music from the bar. A wide variety of soft rock from Your Song to Clocks. With some James Taylor in the middle. If it hadn't been live music, I'd have sworn they'd stolen my iPod. So after dinner, we adjourned to the bar.

Now, Arizona may not have a corkage fee, but that doesn't mean its liquor laws are like Utah's. Look:



999 bottles of all that on the wall?! Take one down let's pass it around . . .

Actually, I was still more impressed by the music. So I joined a group of people sitting at the piano and suggested (erm, maybe demanded?) a few requests.



(That's cute Pelli in the picture. She was gracious.) Unfortunately, there was no time for requests. The piano man was leaving soon.

For those of you wondering about this piano man, his name is Steve Kostakes and his website is stevekostakes.com. I know this because I bought his cd. (It was the second "piano man" cd I bought last weekend. I bought another one from a different singer at the hotel. Let me say this: Scottsdale clientele love the soft rock of the 70's and 80's. And they have loads of people willing to play the songs for them. Can I please have some of that in Utah? And not in the form of lame ass dueling piano bars. More like The Beverly Brothers who played Club Manhattan in my college days.)

So, yeah, point of the story was the champagne. Not consumed Sunday night. Not consumed Monday night because I flew home that night. Well, I meant to fly home that night. I missed my flight, had to stay overnight near the airport, and then fly home at 6:15am the next day. That tale of mine has been told time and time before.

Today's Song: Clocks, as performed by Steve Kostakes