We were getting a thin layer of fluffy snow, which seemed to keep the crowd down, although at any given time there were four to a dozen people in the club. This was a night for couples—date night, I guess. It felt like there was an invisible sign on the door—couples only. No stray wolves, no groups, or girls-night-out bunches of women. Exclusively couples. The most interesting event of the night was a mixed-race couple—a black woman and a white man. They were there at the club with another black couple. When they first walked in I wasn’t certain what was going on. The white man was overly demonstrative. He had his arms draped over the shoulders of the two women and was giving them both kisses. Later I saw him kiss the man too. My night had ended and I was in the Men’s Room straightening my tie and admiring my you-talkin’-to-me look when the white man entered. We chatted and he said that his wife is from West Africa and so are the other couple. He said he’s helping the other couple start up a fish farm. “Intriguing,” I said before departing, mostly hoping he wouldn’t get overly friendly with me. He returned to the bar and the four of them got talking to another couple who had asked if they’re from French West Africa. There was an explosion of excitement and the woman from the one couple was throwing out names of townships to the foursome who were getting more and more excited—“You know that town?!! She’s from ____ which is about 30 kilometers away.” Weird coincidence. The woman in the non-foursome couple had been to West Africa and several countries nearby while she was in the Peace Corp. Apparently, the world gets smaller in the jazz club.
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