Introducing Alice

Alice is the superfoxy wife of the guitarist/pianist from my former band, BooN.  She is not only wonderfully liberal and artistic, she is a terrific mother and a supportive groupie.  There really should be a special award for the woman who lets her spouse not only hold noisy weekly rehearsals in the basement, but also attends every seedy gig with a proud smile on her face. 

My story is a little hard to admit.  I am not a thief, by any means.  However, I have acquired a stuffed animal, a bracelet, and 3 CDs, (all of which are still in heavy rotation in my life) by *ahem* dishonest means.  The Gallery Cabaret was one of the seediest clubs at which the illustrious BooN performed.  It was certainly the darkest.  As we set up equipment in the noisy bar, Alice showed up wearing a beautiful dark red jacket--everyone who knows Alice is aware that she is quite the fashionista.  A few minutes after she got settled, we exchanged hellos and I got to work onstage.  BooN played for an hour, and then took a break.  I found a table in the front, and spied a lovely, unattended velvet scarf.  Most of the crowd had left for the evening, and I was sure someone had forgotten this little piece.  I touched the crushed velvet designs.  It was the perfect medium weight.  The perfect burgundy color.  I looked about, and saw no one who belonged to this accessory.  My acquisition instinct kicked in.  Sticky fingers.  Who would know?  For some reason, though, I had an attack of conscious.  I decided to wait until the end of the second set.  If the scarf was still unclaimed, I would take it home.  Back to the stage. 

After the last song, we disassembled our gear and made our way out the door.  But, oh!  The scarf!  I had forgotten to grab it.  I ran to the front table, and it was gone.  Heartbreak.  But it was probably taken home by its rightful owner.  After I said goodbye to Steve and the other guys, I hugged Alice.  She told me that her scarf had disappeared.  She described it as a dark red velvet with fringe.  It matched her jacket perfectly.  Apparently someone had the same inclination I did.  I would have felt horrible if I had been the one to take it, but I would certainly have given it back to her.  But someone got to it first.  Every time I see lovely scarves in department stores, I look for one that could be a replacement.  It has been two years, and I still haven't found one.  But my misplaced guilt drives me to keep looking.