Of lighter theft

How not to steal a lighter.

Tonight I went out late, 'round midnight, to meet my friend Tye at the Red Door Saloon in east Nashville for a couple of drinks. He called me while I was naked, reading in bed, with my sleeping darling beside me. Because it was Tye, I took the call. He was in a good mood because he'd just been to the Ryman for the Cheap Trick show.

"I'm taking a cab to Five Points," he said. "Wanna have a drink at Red Door?"
"Sure!" I replied. "Sounds like you've got some momentum."   I got dressed and braved the cold.

Tye is a unique person. He is close to the music industry, especially Cheap Trick.  His aunt is a rock radio DJ in Chicago and Cheap Trick are not the only rock stars he is personally familiar with, by a long shot. (Kid Rock, Brett Michaels, I'll stop there to maintain dignity.) When Tye was a young boy in Illinois, he was playing games with Robin Zander's kids.

I rolled us cigarettes. We smoked and drank and I listened rapt as Tye told me about spending the evening having good times, and revisitng old times, with Robin Zander and the rest of Cheap Trick. He ardently described hanging out in all four of the green rooms at the Ryman. You heard me, the Ryman has four green rooms. He didn't even need a backstage pass to get backstage. (Yes, these are the sort of people I spend my weeknights drinking with.)

This kind of talk, of course, attracts the attention of nearby drinkers. There was a sexy brunette at the bar next to us. A real showstopping kind of woman, dark hair and fair skin, tattoo between her shoulder blades, and a sassy attitude to boot. She was flirting with a bearded bald hipster in a sport coat, but she couldn't help overhearing our conversation. Eventually, she ignored her flirt partner and entered our conversation by, get this, reaching over and tasting my dirty Grey Goose martini - without permission.

She said, for a dirty martini, it didn't have enough olive brine in it. She should know, she insisted, because she's a bartender at Mirror, in 12th South. All the while I'm thinking, I didn't ask.  She promptly engaged Tye in a coolness duel, because she knew Robin Zander, too. Small world.

During the coolness duel, she pulled a cigarette out of her pack, put it in her mouth, pulled another cigarette out, and gave it to Tye. Then she picked up my lighter, from under my pouch of tobacco, and lit both cigarettes. My lighter deftly disappeared into her purse. First my martini, I thought, now my lighter.

After this, she studiously ignored us. I tried to strike up some polite conversation, by telling her I was a writer, hoping to get my lighter back, or at least a light. She didn't even turn her head.

Tye and I ordered another round of drinks. Our sexy brunette took my lighter out of her purse, lit herself a new cigarette, oblivious to her benefactor (me), and put my lighter back into her purse. Eventually, I attempted another chat with our sultry klepto, only to be snubbed again.

Hilarious, I thought. Tye and I finished our drinks. It was almost time to go.  My first thought was, Lighter theft happens all the time.  Let this chyck steal your lighter, Suhail. She clearly needs it more than you do. But letting it go on such a rude note didn't feel right. If she wanted to steal my lighter, she could at least have the savoir-faire to entertain me with some dialogue.

Tye and I were ready to leave. I thought of my gorgeous girlfriend, sleeping cozy, alone, in bed, at home. I thought of not having a lighter next time I roll a cigarette. I realized the only thing I wanted from this brunette barfly was my lighter.  I cut into her latest conversation.
"May I have my lighter back?" I said, "It's the purple one you put in your purse."

She paused for a moment, not turning her head.  I smiled at her anyway.   She then produced my lighter from her purse.

"I steal lighters," she explained apologetically, looking at me with her winning smile. "It's one of my things."
"I know what you mean," I replied.
"A lighter touches my hand-"
"And it never comes back," I finished for her. "It's part of your charm."
"No, I hardly notice when I do it," she elaborated.
"I'm the same way sometimes," I assured her.  "That's what I mean; it's part of your charm."
"Come to Mirror," she replied flirtatiously, "I'll make you the perfect martini."

No doubt she will. She strikes me as an adept bartender. But I will definitely go to Mirror with a book of matches, rather than a lighter.

A tip for you lighter stealers out there: If you're going to steal someone's lighter, give them a little closure. It'll hike up your success rate.

Need a lighthouse in the winsome fog of love and relationships? Ask Suhail.


©2009 by Suhail Rafidi