The Tale of Willy Wonka and Sammy Davis

This past weekend, the Senior Partner and I celebrated our birthdays. We both get older together in August, but probably haven't had an actual birthday party since the first year we were married. And that one was celebrated with like 200 of our closest friends and well-wishers (but that's a whole other story). We decided to round up all our friends who could possible make it and meet them at Saints, a Public House in Oklahoma City's Plaza District.

We held court for five or six hours. Everyone had a lot of fun, I think, and many, many drinks were purchased for us.

Neither the wife or I drink much anymore. We typically have a bottle or two of wine and a couple sixes of good beer in the house, but we cannot remember the last time we drank to more than a light buzz. But even when we did drink more, the Senior Partner has never had much of a tolerance. Calling her a light weight might be an insult to light weights everywhere.

Just keep that in the back of your mind. The wife + not much alcohol = very giddy behavior and silly decision making.

Enter two gentlemen I immediately dubbed Willy Wonka and Sammy Davis. Here's a picture to show you why.

And now you understand.

We loved these guys. The Senior Partner decided she wanted a picture with two such outlandishly garbed gentlemen. Our good friend Brandie immediately volunteered to go with, I'm sure as much with hope for a good story as to keep the SP from doing anything monumentally stupid.

Doing two things completely out of character, SP walked right up to them and brazenly asked, "Can we get a picture with you?"

Brandie interjected at this point, probably to explain my wife's overly loud voice and frighteningly bubbly smile. "It's okay. It's her birthday."

Sammy brightened up and smile broadly at them. "Sure! I'm George and it's my birthday, too!" Turning to the wife, he says, "Leos are the best, am I right?"

SP sticks out her hand. "Hi Leo! I'm Andrea!"

Face I'm sure full of chagrin, Brandie leans into her ear. "I'm pretty sure he said his name is George."

But by then it was too late. Andrea was calling him Leo come hell or high water. The pic was snapped, thank yous were given, and the ladies, one partially supported by the other, ambled back to the table. Upon reaching the table (so about a minute and a half later) there was a denoument conversation that wrapped up the shenanigans perfectly.

A very serious, somewhat confused look came over my wife's face. "Was his name Leo?"

"No," Brandie replied with the same kind of voice you use to explain taxes to toddlers. "His name was George."

"No, that's no good," SP said, shaking her head. "I like Leo better."