The front porch

OMG!!!

I normally do not sacrifice sleep for a Facebook/blog post.

I barely sacrificed sleep when I had a newborn baby, but if I don't type up my thoughts while they're this fresh, I'm going to explode, and that would be extremely messy.

I've had a lot of memorable days in my life..days which could easily compete for the title of "the best time I ever had."

There were  those big events, like the day I became Jim's wife or Evan's mother.

The time I won $1,100 (AND A MR. COFFEE!!) as a game show contestant.

Look at all the Woodloch memories I've shared..the Club Med trips, but on a scale that measures pure happiness...inexplicable JOY..well..nothing that's not  permanently life-changing compares..to what I ..what we.. have just spent the last few hours doing.

It's Reid and Joni's last night in Maine, and they suggested we go to a piano bar that they frequent often.

It meant no time for  a real dinner, it meant scaling a steep and narrow staircase , and it meant being packed like  intoxicated sardines in a very crowded bar, but  they  had already secured seats for us by getting there extra early.  High stools that surrounded the piano, where the music was so loud you couldn't hear anyone even think.

You couldn't even hear my loud grumbling stomach.

I quickly scanned the crowd and decided I did not belong in a bar like this..where bachelorette parties had been drinking ALCOHOL since the middle of the day; where buffed gay men clinked their glasses and shared private jokes.

I must have walked by this place, Ogunquit's famous "The Front Porch" dozens of times since we first came here in the summer of 1988.  It's situated at the town's busiest intersection, and never going inside was always  fine by me--I had no intention of ever stepping foot in there.  I'd listen to the plinking keys of the piano wafting from a window two stories up and say a private little prayer, thankful that I wasn't one of those poor sheep waiting to get in, in a line that snaked around the corner.

They would never accept me anyway, I thought.

I'm too frumpy: too chunky: too poorly dressed,  I'm under accessorized. I can't sing or even  hoist myself onto a bar stool.

I looked at myself as a big hunk of boring white bread, although my gay male friends reading thus far might disagree and call me one of their favorite fruit flies.

So my skepticism and hunger were as high as the bar stool, and "The Front Porch" was loud, and it was crowded, and it was..one of the happiest nights of my entire life.

All my cynicism flew out of that second floor window when I saw the first performer wearing  a rainbow t-shirt with the word"Stonewall" printed in dozens of rows.  He played a few notes of recognizable pop and Broadway songs, and everyone sang along, knowing every lyric; knowing every dance step; even when the pianist cracked gay-friendly improvised lyrics to songs from "Grease"..they danced like Sandy and Danny were there in person, and all us revelers were judging their important dance off.

The piano was was surrounded by business cards and Venmo instructions for placing requests and tips in a large inverted glass top hat, and we couldn't stop making requests.

The lit  partiers lit up the room....and lit me up  as well, when  pianist Robert Dionne sang the first few notes of "Something from "Hairspray", requested by Karen from New Jersey" and everyone seemed to love substituting  "Good Morning, Baltimore!" for "Good Evening, Ogunquit, Maine!"

(At least, all the well-dressed singers within ear shot.)

It was a sing along like nothing I've ever experienced before.  The camaraderie was palpable.

Multiple generations of all sizes and shapes and genders were joining in, knowing every lyric to "Bohemian Rhapsody" or the greatest hits by the King. 

 (And Jim was smart enough to wear his "Graceland" t-shirt!)

It was a rolicking, roaring, raucous, incredibly good time..a religious experience with a joyful crowd who could stand in their high heeled shoes for another five hours if need be.

Yes, even the women.

Words can't describe just how wonderful life is....when you're ..being serenaded by a pianist and his followers, singing our wedding song, Elton John's "Your Song."

Our actual anniversary isn't until  November, but I wasn't going to disappoint that crowd or myself. by revealing that.... a crowd who cheered wildly to celebrate Karen and Jim. A crowd who enthusiastically embraced us.

Joni calls "The Front Porch" her "happy place" but happy isn't even a strong enough adjective.

It is joyful..magnificent...the best thing you'll experience all year; the reason you need to book a trip to Ogunquit Maine as soon as you can.

A half a dozen semi conscious members of the bachelorette party looked like they were willing to give us a vital organ in exchange for our prime real estate  bar stools around the piano/table, but we were actually  a little bit hungry for something more substantial than love by this point.

We walked across the street to a perfect little spot, buzzing with activity, as we shared some tantalizing small plates and laughs and almost cult-like appreciation for what we had just experienced.

Sing us a song, you're the piano man..sing us a song tonight!