One night, Grandma polished off a pitcher of beer by herself while the two of us dined on pizza at Beggar's Pizza in Lansing, Illinois. We frequented that spot for years...even before I was of legal drinking age. Beggar's wasn't an ordinary pizza place -- the building was once an old movie theater complete with a classic Barton pipe organ. At the bottom of the old theater-turned-restaurant was a a giant pipe organ while the walls of the theater were adorned with other musical instruments that would light up when the organist played them. It was once known as Lansing Pipes & Pizza and later Beggar's, but no matter the name -- it played host to numerous birthday parties and other celebrations. Since Beggar's only featured a live organist certain nights of the week, Grandma and I planned our visits for the evenings when a guy named Dean played. Dean entertained the masses with a collection of music from classic children's songs to polkas and even contemporary music such as George Michael's "Father Figure".
That night, Grandma scribbled a few requests for Dean on a sheet of paper and walked them down to his tip jar where she dropped them. Grandma grew restless as Dean played song after song because none of these were her requests. About the same time she finished her pitcher of beer, she took action. So, she walked down and started fishing out her requests among his dollar bills and other monetary tips. Dean caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye while he played the theme from "Phantom of the Opera". Without missing a note, he played on while my Grandma turned to me and shrugged her shoulders. Practically in tears when she returned, Grandma asked what the hell was so funny. I explained that it looked like she was robbing Dean of his tips. Thankfully she also saw that she could be viewed as a tip thief and plotted to talk to him during his next break. That's when she shared her next unsolicited opinion with me: Dean was so good at playing a musical instrument meant that he was also great in bed. Okey doke, Grandma.
I escorted Grandma down to chat with Dean during his 15-minute break and she struck up a conversation.
"Where do you work?" she asked.
"Radio Shack," Dean replied.
"Radio Shack?!? What the hell for?" she replied.
"I actually like working there," he added.
"Well, you're wasting your talents there. You're gifted. You're a musician. You shouldn't be selling electronic parts," she chastised him.
After we returned to our seats, Grandma turned to me and said, "I was wrong. There's no way he's good in bed. He's blah."
Dean never played Grandma's requests that night.