Partying parents strike a chord at Johnny’s
A paraphrased travel slogan comes to mind after spending an
enjoyable evening in Hollister last weekend. Nothing is more
relaxing after a long week at the salt mines than spending time
with good friends, laughing at Leal’s Comedy Night with a glass of
syrah in your hand and the relaxing scent of lavender in your nose.
The featured comedian came direct from Vegas, further illustrating
Hollister’s quaintness.
Partying parents strike a chord at Johnny’s
A paraphrased travel slogan comes to mind after spending an enjoyable evening in Hollister last weekend. Nothing is more relaxing after a long week at the salt mines than spending time with good friends, laughing at Leal’s Comedy Night with a glass of syrah in your hand and the relaxing scent of lavender in your nose. The featured comedian came direct from Vegas, further illustrating Hollister’s quaintness.
After all the laughter, the evening can’t end there. We decide to take our own show on the road and caravan into town to see what’s happening there. Friday night yields some disappointment – as Hollister is a small town, it tends to keep small town hours.
Besides, with the kids taken care of at home and a rare night out for the parents, we’re not anxious to fold up the evening at 9:30. We remember vaguely from our youth that fun usually begins after 10 p.m. We also remember that 10 p.m. is now usually close our bedtime, but that’s of little concern now. Let’s go for broke and stay out until 11 p.m., consequences, be damned!
We find ourselves at one of Hollister’s famed watering holes. Johnny’s is a small yet welcoming joint. Tin signs and photos encased in plastic line the walls. It’s fun to play, “Hey, there’s ….” in “Where’s Waldo®” fashion while you contemplate karaoke. In my case, I decide that I needed a lot more drinks to actually sing, and the rest of the place would need a lot more to actually listen to me. I remain safe on the sidelines, watching my compadres indulge in Japan’s favorite pass-time.
The Husband has clearly missed his calling and regales us with an amazing version of “The Devil Went Down To Georgia.” I have noticed that there’s a sweet spot that he hits when singing. One drink over that spot and I’m the recipient of the night’s first bleary-eyed, “I love you, man.”
Being sober makes me feel superior. I can chuckle disapprovingly as people lose their key in the middle of “Delta Dawn.” Although, one of our friends does a fabulous rendition of “I Got You, Babe” by Sonny and Cher, complete with hair flipping, accompanied by her “Sonny.”
There is always a stand-out couple at places like this. The couple who outshines the others with their adorableness. This night, the award goes to an older couple, who appeared to be in their 70s. The woman must have been a stage performer at some point in her life because with sparkling bracelets and flowing shirt sleeves, she could really work a room. Her voice was sultry as she sang an old love song to her beloved. He sat at the bar, watching her every seemingly choreographed move, with a proud smile on his face.
When she wasn’t singing to him, they were in each other’s arms, dancing, oblivious to the world around them. They were the picture of youth.
Our table was the picture of, “I need another Long Island Iced Tea.”
Raucous laughing and singing from various points of the room and a full-fledged sing-along inspired by an animated crooner to “Friends in Low Places,” put us all in a place you only feel when you’re really paying attention. Contented, belonging, fun.
Time flies and before we know it, it’s time to hang up the mic (I say a silent thank you, for all concerned that I was not coerced into singing) and head out into the cool, hopefully sobering, night air. Stopping us at the door, the karaoke DJ gently reminds me as the designated driver, that it’s Labor Day weekend and to be careful driving home, after she learns that Gilroy is our destination.
That lended itself even more to Hollister’s small town quaintness. I can’t imagine going anywhere else where a motherly tone out the door would make you feel warm and cared about, leaving a bar.
It’s easy to get silly in happy places like that, but I firmly believe that “Some stuff that happens in Hollister, should stay in Hollister.”
