Some time around St. Patrick's day, I recieved an email from my friend (and de facto ambassador of Salt Lake City) "JMax" from Welcome to Schaererville. Attached was a graphic that some editors from The Salt Lake Tribune had put together as a guide to maximize your chances of getting a drink during the hectic weekend festivities.
Her email opened with "When this graphic came out I thought of you immediately." I can't imagine why...
"Oh Fuuuuuury... come heeeeere..."
Birth of a Nightclub Mogul
"Yeah! Let's make a bar, Dad!" beams my son, as he makes a bee-line for the Jawa Sandcrawler in our garage/playroom. He carefully extracts the control room and sets it aside. I cringe. But for the sake of a potentially cool blog post, I let it go. More digging around. The Lego Bionicle fort is now dismantled. Legos fly, pieces click, fingers work.
"Dad, I made the bartenders."
"You gave them all cars??"
"Yeah, they need to get to work don't they?"
My son, the benevolent mogul.
"This is the stove area. You can turn the fire on and off."
"Oh your bar serves food?"
"Yes, it's a bar & grille."
Not that it's a bad word, but where in the heck did he pick up the term bar & grille??
"Well that's good. So what if I wanted a Newcastle with my burger?"
"Right here, Dad. The beer machine. Aaaand, outside we have a beer fountain!!"
I SO hope he pursues this line of work. He's already showing signs of genius.
It definitely works better as a tap than a radar antenna.
I dub the bar "Fury's Playroom" and I must say it is coming along nicely. He's built a raised VIP area, a front entrance (complete with an awning he fashioned from a cockpit dome), a lobby, and yes even a DJ booth! I have to laugh out loud at this (and bring the camera into the kitchen to show d Wife who busts out in a rare fit of laughter).
Note the backwards cap. Brilliance lies in the details.
Things are not proceeding according to schedule. The mogul loses his cool.
"Dad! All the guests are coming and we're not even ready!!"
Clearly, this boy needs an assistant.
As patrons line up, I arrange all the separate modules that he's built together on the floor. Lo and behold, it looks like an actual nightclub!
Building one of these is part of the "L.A. Kid" aptitude test.
Opening Night, "Fury's Playroom"
As limos pull up and starlets file in, I'm feeling mighty good. Our PR firm did a great job wrangling the who's who of Hollywood to join us in our little soiree. Uh oh! Someone's getting a little mouthy with our bouncer Hewkii Matoro. But he takes care of things like a true professional.
We had to grease some palms to get that unsanctioned lightsaber.
Ok enough loitering. Time for me to go in and enjoy this party!
Hewkii Matoro: Excuse me sir, you can't come in like that.
Me: No excuse ME. What did you just say to me?
Hewkii Matoro: You can't come in like that. Sir. You have to have a collared shirt. Please step aside.
Me: Do you know who I am??
Hewkii Matoro: Yeah, you're so-and-so's guest who should have put you on the list, but she forgot to phone it in, but you know some very important people and I'll never work in this town again, right? Please step aside.
Me: Man, you are so dead! I'm Fury's dad! Hey! Fury! Tell your bucket-o-bolts bouncer dude to let me in!
Fury: Dad ... dad ... if I had to make an exception every time someone said they knew me... besides, you're making my friend here uncomfortable. Just chill them jets and ... HEY, Paris! Looking good. HEF! You old dog, get over here and bring your friends.