It started with a work trip. I was going see a client in Reno, Nevada. Lake Tahoe straddles the Nevada – California line near Reno and Chrissy and I had never been there. We figured a lake so nice they named a Chevrolet after it should be seen, so we went a few days early for a getaway weekend.
The lake did not disappoint. We drove all the way around it, saw it from many angles and elevations, and took a few short hikes. From the shore, the water was impossibly clear; from above, it was a deep blue, reflecting mountains and trees like a mirror. It was postcard-perfect.
After a full day of exploring, we were thirsty, hungry, and ready for a cold beer and some food. We poked our heads into a couple of places near our hotel, but they just didn’t feel right. We crossed the street, and just as hunger and thirst were pushing us to be less selective, we found the place. Standard pub fare on the menu, several taps of draft beer, and classic rock providing the ambiance. Our kind of place.
As the hostess seated us in the dining room, we noticed a band setting up in the bar. We love live music, so we thought, this could turn out well. As we leisurely worked our way through dinner, the band finished their sound check and started to play. By the third song, we knew we needed to move into the bar and join this party.
The barroom was sparse at first, but it filled steadily as the night wore on. As the crowd pressed in, we gave up our stools and found a spot near the band. Watching the room fill up, we soon realized that we and the band were having a noticeable impact on the average age of the crowd. Our kids would have felt old in this room. And yet, there we all were together, singing along, dancing, and enjoying music that was already old when I was their age. It was a beautiful evening.
The band was well into their third set, and Chrissy and I were dancing – not really with each other, but with the crowd – when the Matchmaker appeared.
A young man danced his way over to us and, without a word, pulled the three of us into a circle. He stuck his beer bottle in his teeth, grabbed each of us by the hand, and motioned for Chrissy and me to join our free hands together. We could have been singing Kum Ba Yah, except the band was playing the Rolling Stones.
He held that beer bottle in his teeth for an absurdly long time, dancing us around in circles. Eventually, inevitably, the bottle hit the floor. Apparently, that was the signal that his work was complete. He took our hands, placed them together, nodded approvingly, retrieved his beer from the floor, and blended back into the crowd.
I really think he believed he had just brought us together – The Matchmaker of South Lake Tahoe.
That was a couple of weeks ago, and Chrissy is still hanging out with me. So who knows – maybe it worked?
You plan a romantic getaway in a stunningly beautiful place and enjoy every minute of it. But somehow, the best memory ends up being great music, a packed bar, and a young Matchmaker sucking on a Coors Light. Every day is once in a lifetime. Embrace the unexpected and enjoy it.
P.S. Thanks to McP’s Taphouse Tahoe, the Arizona Jones Reno Band, and the Matchmaker (whoever you are) for a great night.
Where Are We Going Now? 