The Last Night of My Life

Today I wrote a restaurant capsule of the last place I dined on the last night of my life.

I am speaking of course of a previous life that existed before March 23, 2005. It is crazy to me how time has flown and yet less than two years have passed before me in period that seems longer than part of my past life, or other lives that pre existed before that one. The fact is, it is easier to talk in terms of the life I bid farwell to on March 22 than it has ever been before. The place was called Butch's Clock Steak House and me and my fellow bartenders, and owners and recently ex-boyfriend (all exclusively of the club Three, in Milwaukee) feasted on a spread of food that cost nearly $500. We had pooled tips from a recent "DJ Ball" that featured a slew of local talent on the decks and all of us decided that instead of keeping a share of them, we would treat ourselves to a big event.

I remember ordering a plate of orange roughy and gorging on fine red wine, warm bread and an olive tray that included radishes. I ate all of the radishes that night and washed everything down with glass of B&B. Our server was blonde and stoic and unfriendly, but we didn't care, surrounded tall leather couches that reminded me of old men with big cigars. The fact was, I was a queen that night, hanging with my group of boys--many whom I loved on all different levels--and I was apprenhensive and tense because in 12 hours, I was getting on a plane to go to Miami--my first trip alone since 1999. I was going to the winter music conference for the first time on a whim, and not knowing anybody besides my two friends staying in different hotels, I tried to put it out of mind.

Scanning the website for Butch's today, I felt a flood of emotions come back to me, many which have left me conflicted and somewhat sad. The words Guayma shrimp making me sad--unbelievable! But the fact is I remember that last night of my life with such searing clarity--the way we stood in the front bar waiting for everyone to gather. The initial uncomfortable silences of work buddies meeting each other outside of work, the way you smoke a cigarette to keep your hands occupied until the alcohol kicks in. J.T. was drinking a high life and Dan and Allison had been bickering just before arriving. I, myself, arrived with Jon and we had ran across three blocks against the searing March wind just to make in time. We were, of course, late. And after all dinner had settled, we embarked to water street to drink at Rosie's where I ran into my news editor at the paper I was working at the time. In the dark glow of Rosie's tap--right beside the pool table--Doug asked me, "aren't you supposed to be on a plane?" and I said, "yea, In like five hours. I don't want to go."

I couldn't believe I said it. But the fact is, I did say it and I remember standing there feeling like it was impossible for me to go alone, to retreat to a place that I thought I swallowed whole years ago. Independence. Could I do it? Who would I know? Who would I meet? I wasn't ready to face those questions because at that moment they weren't really real to me. I couldn't imagine myself doing it.

Four hours later I hopped in my Jetta, still fuzzy from a night of partying, binging and the rest, and I drove down from Milwaukee to O'Hare airport in the dark, the fog darting around the beams from my headlights. I turned on the radio and heard Beyonce singing "Naughty Girl" on the radio. I didn't take it as a sign of things to come--rather, it remains stuck in my head as a concrete memory that I can' t quite shake. I imagined Beyonce lounging in giant champagne glass. I imagined drinking champagne. I was afraid I would be late, but somewhat didn't care. I had a worn a skirt to be safe in the sun.

As I rolled under the Oasis with two hands on the wheel, the sunlight broke. I didn't look back.

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The capsule (Soon-to-be-seen in The Onion newspaper)

Butch's Clock Steak House and Martini Bar

The high-backed, leather booths prime the palate for cigars and cognac. Butch's line-up of steak and chops is equally hearty, starting with a 20 oz. steer filet ($59.95) all the way to the demur 12 0z. Steak Sicilian ($22.95) seasoned for the daintier appetite. Those opting for something less carnivorous can look to Butch's seafood menu, which features giant Guayma shrimp, Alaskan king crab legs by the pound and Cajun orange roughy that pops with subtle kick. Try your luck on the Casino Chicken, and finished it off with a warm glass of B&B. The classic ambiance bodes well for the buzz. Go For: A decadent, steak house experience polished with old-school finesse. Grandpa will love it. Entrées: $24-$26 (800 N. Plankinton Ave. 347-0142)