Women of a Certain Age

Today began our annual “Boulder Babes” reunion.  We are a group of 8 women that spend the best part of a week together sans husbands/men.  And we all golf.  And we are of a certain age.  And we know how to have a good time.

So…after reuniting at the rental that sits on the beach in Aptos, we walked to the restaurant down the street for dinner.  Literally we are on the beach.  There is a patio, a “fence” of big rocks and then the sand.  Pretty cool.

But I digress.

We arrived and the restaurant did not have the reservation.  Upon further inspection, they had our party of 8 down for Monday nite.  Only problem is…it was Sunday.  No problemo.  The restaurant was mostly empty and they made accommodations.  Meanwhile, we bellied up to the bar and ordered drinks and wine.  Then we were seated and immediately a glass of wine was overturned…and much of it landed on my brand new pants and on the chair of Carolyn, who was sitting to my left.  After much ado, the table was swabbed and wine re-poured and we proceeded to ordering dinner.

After dinner the fun began in ernest.  The bill was presented.  We sounded like a bunch of wet hens.  Was the bill right?  Was the tip included?  Why was it $53/person?  Bantering and quibbling ensued.

Now all this was complicated because the restaurant was so dark, who could see?  We were trying to see the bill, check it correctness, pay it.  Linda was the accountant for the evening.  She collected money from 5 of us and credit cards from 3 of us and off she went to the front desk to pay the bill.  Then the server, Marin, brought the infamous black bill holder to the table.  When we three credit card people inspected the cheques, we discovered that we were each charged $121.  WHAT?  Better yet, WHAT THE HECK?  About this time the conversation went something like this.

Donna, “I can’t see the bill.  It’s too dark in here.”

Dianna, “I can’t see it either.  Wait, I have the wrong credit card because the last four digits don’t match.”

Sue, “I can’t see it but it is way too much.  $121.

Donna and Dianna, “What?  $121.”

Donna, “This is wrong.  I can’t see.”

Dianna, “It is way to dark in here.  But the bill is wrong.  Where is Linda?”

Sue, “Where is Linda?  This is wrong.  The three of us are paying for everything?”

Donna, “Someone needs to get us a light.”

Sue, “This isn’t right.  Why are we paying for everything.”

Editorial remark:  Much wine and drinks had been consumed.  5 pinots, 2 bottles of chardonnay, a separate glass of chardonnay and that does not even include the two gray gooses, a vodka martini, and a glass of pinot ordered at the bar.

So back to the action.

Sue, Dianna, Donna in unison and quite possibly too loudly, “Where is Linda?”

Kris, “I talked with the manager.  She will be here in a minute.”

Manager, “May I help you?”

Kris, Cathy, Carolyn, Dianna, Donna, Sue, Judy (actually everyone but Linda) chime in with their own version of events…simultaneously.   That poor manager.  She was flummoxed.

Finally, I offered my flashlight app to Donna who could then see the bill.  Then Linda returned with all the cash in hand.  What?  The manager ran away saying she would take care of everything.  Linda tried to explain herself.  We were, at this point, fairly bewildered.  Kris left to smoke.


The manager returned.  The credit card bills were $53 each, the correct amount.  The iphone was passed so that the blind could see where to sign.  Linda had all the cash in her hand which she handed to the server along with the credit card bills signed.  And about that time Carolyn and Cathy decided that we were not that far away from needing professional assistance, a helper.  A younger person that could handle things.  A handler.

We were a scream.  We were the loudest biggest table in the joint.  We were also the most confused and bewildered.  It was a blast.  We had a great time being the Boulder Babes.  Ain’t life great?

One final point.  I tried to get the Babes together to read this to them and ask for input, but it is like herding cats.  So, I post it as I remember it.



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