[col-sect][column]I kind of blew it tonight. I was supposed to call Bianca to let her know that I was coming over to pick her up so that she would have sufficent advanced warning to get ready. But instead I had assumed that she already knew that I was coming, so when I eventually called her… en route, and then showed up a few minutes later well, yeah. Long story short, she’s in the shower and I’m out picking up some take-out.

And so yeah leave it to me to end up at old school late night steak & pizza joint called Gigi’s on Davie. This place is one of those dark suburban italian restaurants from the late 70’s, except it’s right downtown Vancouver and it’s 2009. Gigi’s is preserved in time; even the menu refuses to freshen. The baked lasagna and garlic bread, the little side salad and italian dressing with a bit of pepper. All vintage. I love it. The thing is that it’s 9:30pm on a Saturday night and besides myself, there’s one other customer in this place. Sitting by himself in the corner. He looks like he belongs in the parking lot outside a Skynyrd concert but yet he’s got this tiny pink plastic pig dangling from his cell phone. He’s also sporting a black t-shirt with the Ford logo but it says “Fuck” instead of “Ford”. Actually he just got up to leave. And he gives me this look like, “Yeah, that’s right. A pink pig. It’s my girlfriend’s phone, bitch. You got a problem with that?” It’s not that I was staring; I zeroed in on his dubious phone and I just wanted to verify, in the interests of accuracy, that the dangly was indeed a pig and not say a kitty or something. Yep. Pig. I think. Anyway so he’s gone and it’s just me.

[/column][column]Waiter comes up and I tell him what I want. I’m still standing up actually. But I’m going for it: the baked lasagna (which comes with the garlic tiny salad!), a large ‘Gigi’s special’ pizza and a large greek salad. Waiter says that it will be about 20 minutes and asks if I’m going to hang out or leave and return. Now let me get to the point of this entire post. It turns out that this ’should I stay or should I go’ decision was not a decision at all… beCAUSE of what I haven’t yet mentioned: the live jazz. Yeah, Gigi’s has a stage and these 2 guys, piano (& simultaneously keyboard bass … !!) and drums are kicking large quantities of ass. I mean really flying. And I’m the only one in the house to appreciate it. How is this? Compu’er says nah. Because what’s going on here? I’ve stepped into a vortex of total shibui coolness: great food, great decor, great live music and all is cool without trying. On top of all that no other people are around to spoil it. Sometimes in life the gods shine upon you.

The guys finish the tune and I’m clapping. They do another and I notice the 8.5 x 11 sheets on the wall advertising “Bigg Dee and his band.”  (It turns out as I learned later that Bigg Dee’s wife owns the place so he joked about being “ordered” to play there). After the next piece, Bigg Dee and drummer take a break and step off the stage and as he walks by I said, “Sounds great!” Bigg Dee replied, “One person or 50 – it doesn’t matter as long as they enjoy it.”[/column][/col-sect]

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