I have never been to The Cellar before. Or, for that matter, The Peppermill, which is the main establishment on the ground floor. The Cellar is exactly that. The basement. A dance floor, a dining area with dark red carpet on the narrow side, a wall-length bar and a pool table on the longer sides. And the johns. Plus stairs to the outside and stairs to the kitchen.

They had decorated simply, like a high school dance. White Christmas lights wrapped in red garland along the walls, red lights wrapped in white garland around the two pillars, making a red, white and pink archway between the dance floor and the tables. Dark red tablecloths, with one small candle on each small table. The pool table was covered with white, holding the door prizes. A live DJ in the corner by the bar.

These were tables for two. Fifteen tables providing room for exactly fifteen couples. Our ticket said we were couple 15, but four never showed (a motel manager bought them as gifts for his employees, but they all had plans). We took a table in the corner by the pool table, as far away from the smokers on the back wall as we could get.

Oddly, they had the chairs for these intimate sites set on opposite sides of the tables. By the time I had hung up our coats, my date had fixed that problem at our table. We were like couple six or seven to arrive. They had little cups of red and white candies (the little printed hearts, redhot hearts, red M&Ms, etc.) at each place setting. I found a heart that just said "Angel", and gave it to my Angel, telling her it was hers.

"Don't you want to eat your Angel tonight?" was her response.

Really.

So I did. Twice.

The ticket price for this little soiree included a digital photograph of each couple, in front of the big heart on the dance floor wall.

Just like prom night.

And this time I remembered to wear the jacket I forgot back in November.

(I have scanned and cropped our photo and, my Literary Friend, I don't care if it is copyrighted. The wife is still too paranoid to want me to post it here, but if there are any of you out there who I know, and who would want an emailed copy of 'Grouse & Spouse at the 2002 Valentine's Day Ball', let me know. Remember, the fantasy of radio is sometimes better than the reality of television.)

By the time we were done with our photo, three of the couples in the middle of the dining area had decided they had had enough intimacy, and had put their three tables together so they could visit.

By the time the salads arrived, there were 12 of us around one big table in the middle of the dining area.

Figure I knew six of the 20 other people there. (Not including the photographer, owner, and the two servers, his sons. Cook came out later to BS, and recognized me. "Aren't you the guy who checked my deer on the south road?" - Probably.). Wife knew twice as many folks.

Now this was a delightful evening, and probably the best Valentine's Day yet, but I do have a couple gripes:

Who is the world would think it is a good idea to put onions in a Valentine's Day salad? They were all full of sliced red onion. Wife and I dutifully picked it all out.

I was our designated driver, but they had no non-alcoholic drinks. Not even O'Doul's. Water or soda pop. Asked for a cherry cola (made with cherry syrup, not from a can). Nope. No cherry syrup.

What kind of bar is this?

Waitress finally brought me a "Roy Rogers." Cola with a couple cherries. No charge, since they couldn't provide anything I wanted. Nursed it all night. Woman from the couple beside me asked if it was too strong? Perhaps I should just have ordered a "Dale Evans?"

What's that? The same thing without a cherry?

Our end of the table thought that was hilarious, but then I was the only one on non-alcoholic beverages.

Prime rib was excellent. Not too dry for me, not too bloody for the wife. Just right.

As usual, saved the fatty parts for the heelers. Same woman was surprised to see me whip out a sandwich bag for the scraps. And asked if I had a second for their three dogs. (Hey, Tasha, two of them are Bostons. Boston 'bulldogs' they called them. The other is a Shih-tsu. They say they want to breed them to get... well, you know what he said.)

The other menu items were chicken cordon bleu and vegetarian mannicotti. Woman beside the wife had the mannicotti, which she pronounced excellent, but it needed the pans to bake properly. Chef agreed when he came out to visit.

Now this is the coolest part of the evening (other than eating Angels). The photographs came back right after dinner, each displayed in a little portfolio. Looked awful empty inside by the pic, and I suggested to the wife and her neighbor that we should pass them around and have each couple sign them. They thought it was a wonderful idea.

So we did.

The young couple at the nearest single table felt left out, and brought their card over to the big table for signatures as well. With that, the dancing was delayed as each of the 11 photos was circulated by hand around the room, until each had the names of all ten other couples.

Much visiting was had by all.

Talk about Prom.

Of course, it was at this point that the wife made the observation that we were the oldest couple in the room.

I got labeled as "really nice" as I took on the task of stealing functional candles from the empty tables as everyone else's burned out. Cheap, little candles. Eventually they were all out, and we were reading and signing in the dark. Organizer made a quick run to the store for more, as the bar had none.

What kind of bar is this?

Hadn't danced with the wife since August. She kept steering me around so I couldn't ogle the woman in the long black dress (split up to the hip on one side, transparent in front on top and transparent in back below). Had to use the wall mirror behind the bar.

One of the couples wasn't really a couple. The wife made it, but the husband had to work, so he sent a stand-in. Standing-in apparently did not include dancing, so this woman, in black pants, black coat with tails, teal blouse and yes, teal shoes, danced with a gal in a gorgeous, lacy white gown from a neighboring couple.

Often.

Damn if they didn't look good together. Damn if they didn't look like they planned their ensembles together (except for the high heels, which they both quickly kicked off).

Fortunately it was all rock music, although some a little older than the youngest couple there. Did ask the DJ if he had our song by George Strait. After checking his cds he reported that, alas, he did not. But he would play some other George Strait next.

I threatened him with bodily harm if he did. Not one whit of country music was played all night.

They had drawings for the Valentine's Day door prizes. Flower bouquets, candy boxes, etc. We won nothing. When they went out to get the box of tickets for the big drawing, they came back with one more door prize they found in the car.

An American flag.

Guess who won?

Can you believe the manufacturers fold these things into rectangles? Wife wouldn't let me take her flag out to fold it properly.

The big drawing had thirty some prizes, but over a thousand entries from the community. Only one of the winners was in attendance at the ball.

So what am I going to do with a Polaroid camera?

The woman in the black dress was one of the organizer's assistants, and got a little whiny that she didn't win anything. To appease her, the head lady decided to just award her one of the prizes. A free sandwich at the 5^th Street Bistro every month for a year.

'Course, the 5^th Street Bistro closed its doors in November, and the owners skipped town.

When that didn't satisfy her, she was awarded the remaining thousand-plus tickets, dumped on her head.

Really.