The jazz club gets its share of mismatched couples. A 30-something guy wearing what I refer to as a bubba cap (baseball cap typically with plastic mesh back and industrial or agricultural company logo above the curved bill) worn backwards and a plaid flannel workshirt, accompanied by a well-dressed, attractive young woman presented themselves at the door. They settled at a table near the band and enjoyed the first set. During the break they were leaving and bubba-hat-dude said he was walking her to the car and would be back. He returned, sat at the bar, and we got talking. He works at a drilling rig in rural Montana. A brutal lifestyle of two weeks at the site of hard, all-encompassing work and then two weeks off. He stepped outside for a smoke. After a couple minutes, I stepped outside and saw a bewildered look on his face. He said the woman he was with is smart, fun to be with, and has a good job, but he won’t see her again. Said he’s 31-years-old and with being an oil roughneck there’s no way to establish a long-term relationship. Meanwhile a couple “out on a date” with their 16-year-old son, were celebrating his birthday. They said with six kids, they’ve established this date-with-mom-and-dad idea to ensure that each child gets special alone time with them. They had dinner at an Indian restaurant and then came to the jazz club because he’s learning sax and drums. I cornered the sax player between sets and he gladly talked with the young guy. The drummer acted too self-important to meet the kid. Fortunately, the drummer was cornered by the mom when he walked past and apparently agreed to bless them with his presence. I’ll bite my tongue so as to not be calling him an arrogant turd, or worse.