The flight out was the usual jumbo jet with wide aisles, narrow seats and the obligatory screaming kid in the seat behind. Calm finally arrived in Detroit, when we did, but the plane change made me long for the screaming kid again. When the same guy who sold me a ticket, carried my bags and flew the plane, I knew this was going to be an experience I wouldn’t soon forget. I didn’t. I remember every detail to this day.

This was the time of the no longer Married Man and I was a reborn “hound”. It’s not like I spent an inordinate amount of energy chasing women but I was on the road a lot and the road can be a lonely place. Ask any salesman. I had just finished the most foul tasting hamburger of my life and, having checked the T.V. listings to see what the three available channels had to offer, I headed back to the hotel to see “The Hindenburg”. It was supposed to be a good movie and I had never seen it. Besides, the movie and a short night’s sleep seemed to be the only options left until the 6AM flight back to civilization.

As I entered the lobby, I heard the tinkling of a jazz piano from the lounge. The guy wasn’t bad and I figured I could take the edge off of this place with a drink. My watch said it was only eight-forty and the movie didn’t start until nine. So I backed up three steps to the swinging doors, sat at the piano bar next to a pleasant looking blonde person and struck up a conversation. Just about the time she got around to mentioning bowling at the Airport Motel, I sensed stirrings near the seat to my right. I looked up and there she was, being rescued by [I think it was] the management from some lounge lizard at the main bar. Talk about being led from the frying pan into the fire!

Her incredible tan was accented in white from the tips of her sandals to the edges of her bouncy blonde hair. There was the slightest hint of an overbite peeking through a perpetual smile that lit up the room. She seemed to be wrapped in a haze as she glided into my life, sat down next to me…and faced the opposite way toward her female friend. I quickly lost all interest in bowling, or whatever, and focused on the challenge of talking with the beautiful back of her sensational front. She was drinking what was left of a glass of iced tea and, clearly, had no interest in anything but the music.

This scene played out for about an hour. She either finally got thirsty or got tired of watching her friend play spoons between hand and knee to the rhythm of the piano. Whichever it was, at last she consented to my buying her a fresh glass of tea. It turns out the lady had never been in a bar before without a male escort and didn’t drink anyway. She and the spoon player were cutting practice for their female barbershop chorus in order to hear the piano player, with whom the other girl was loosely acquainted. Honest. It turned out to be the truth! She was recently divorced, had three children and my complete attention. The seat to my left, as might be expected, was now empty.

We talked well past “The Hindenburg” and into the morning hours, her friend left with some crewcut who dug spoons and the only requests the piano player was taking anymore were coming from his eyelids. I’d been pitching my heart out to continue the pleasantries in my room but she would have no part of it. Hey, I never claimed sainthood! I settled for little more than a handshake and the promise of good company at dinner the next time I was in town. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be back.

(To be continued)

For a man, the Married Man is another guy, rowing the same boat, letting him know that the shore line is still in sight. For a woman, it’s a peek behind the shades that cover the windows of a man’s secret thoughts. For everyone, it’s a view of life and love from a little different angle. The Married Man understands certain truths. For example, he has come to realize that his dad really wasn’t the strongest man on the block…and that’s okay. He embraces the fact that life can be an incredible ride…especially with two in the car. And he knows that HE is Santa Claus.

The Married Man began back in the early ‘90s (the 1990’s) as what was to be a Jazz program originating in New York. Sid Mark, host of the nationally syndicated Sounds Of Sinatra called it “One of the most unique and interesting concepts for a Jazz show I’ve heard in years.” Psychologist Dr. Karen Blaker, author of the book Intimate Secrets and contributor to any number of women’s periodicals said, “Listening to The Married Man will educate both sexes as to what men are really all about. I get the feeling of being a fly on the wall of a men’s locker room, overhearing something that I shouldn’t be privy to.” While people liked what we had to say, Jazz wasn’t a strong musical component in radio at that time and the show never made it to air. Now, stripping away the music elements but keeping the the thoughts and feelings that people did want to explore, we’re back in RSS with a Blog and a Podcast on the Internet.

We’re in the final stages of getting things organized and will begin feeding you our regular menu, including the Podcast, in about a week. Join me for topics from first love to last resort; from pushing buttons to playing it safe. Be sure to set a bookmark for marriedmanshow.com (no spaces…all one word) and eMail me the topics you’d like us to cover at mman@marriedmanshow.com. Others have used the name but you won’t want to miss the original…Married Man!