Spider Jazz (dot com)

Last night Brendan and I braved the weather to see our coworker Jim play jazz piano with a singer named Spider Saloff at a cozy placed called Katerina's. We got there and pushed ourselves through a huge party—everyone wearing name tags—that turned out to be a singles meet-up. No wonder they all stared at us when we walked in. We were going to sit at the bar, then noticed the tiny tables-for-two right by the stage and had to sit there. We shared a bottle of wine and some snackies (I made sure to tell Jim we're not dating). Spider Saloff was a character. She reminded me of Carrie Fisher (now, not 70s) and had, like, three martinis going at once. I made Brendan dance with me to a song Spider had written for an off-Broadway show that she starred in, then was later replaced by drag queen Charles Busch. It turned out to be the longest song in the world and we were the only ones dancing. I kept whispering, "Does this song ever end?" At one point I turned around and realized that the singles had left and the place was empty, except for us and a table full of Spider's friends. After their set, Jim sat with us and we griped about how much we hate our jobs and the people we work with. Spider came over to meet us and I really wanted to ask her to sign my chest. How can you NOT ask a 50 year-old woman named Spider to sign your chest? Then Jim had to go home to the wife, and Brendan and I stayed to watch the salsa band and I made him dance with me again.