BeatleFIC: Table for Four
Once the touring stopped, the boys subjected themselves to a series of awkward dinners together. That is until John broke the monotony. DISCLAIMER: I have no idea what happened at any of those awkward dinners
Table for Four
We used to go to dinner, just the four of us. We felt it was some sort of obligation though I'm not sure to whom. Ourselves probably.
It was something that started after we stopped touring. That was an adjustment for all of us. Suddenly parts of our lives were open that used to be taken up by that whirlwind of traveling to different concert halls around the world. There was a void in each of our lives that needed to be filled even if we were grateful to finally have that void.
Somehow, it was pointed out by one of us, that we only got together for meetings. Even the studio and all the extra long hours we started working in there wouldn't guarantee that all four of us would show up. Someone was often out to lunch or showing up later because he knew he wouldn't be needed for a while. Meetings, often at my house or Ringo's was when we four all met.
Sure, I saw John a lot during that time even socially. I knew that John and George went out quite a bit with the wives and we'd often vacation in pairs as well. But somewhere somehow, someone pointed out how the four of us never ate together anymore or did anything together.
I guess in hindsight it was because we were no longer crammed into hotel rooms together or huddled in dressing rooms unable to go out for food so our dinners had to be brought to us and we were forced to eat sitting at our dressing tables. Or some of that fun we had when the hotel would convert a spare room into a dining room for us.
“Well, don't you think we should maybe be going out to dinner or something?” I think it was Ringo who finally proposed that idea and it didn't seem like a bad one. We all agreed to it.
Only it didn't work in practice. It actually felt awkward. Like we were forcing something unnatural upon ourselves. The conversations weren't sparkling or witty or anything. “How you doing?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“How's the wife?”
“She's fine too.” Nothing really much more then that. We often ate in silence and we all felt that wasn't right. Beatles were supposed to be bantering and jovial when they got together. What was happening to us?
Now in hindsight we realize that quite a lot of that time we spent together on tours was with the telly on and we were always watching it together. Sitting there in the middle of an elegant restaurant in the heart of London with no screen of moving pictures to stare at, we really were at a loss.
To be honest, we all felt this pressure on us to socialize more with each other during this period of our lives. It was ironic since the public didn't know we had finally stopped touring. No announcement was made or anything so that pressure had to be self-inflicted and I believe it was. I'm not sure why but we all were doing it to ourselves and each other.
We tried to break up the prevailing mood a couple of times by inviting Brian with us. Once again, after the touring stopped, he wasn't around all four of us either unless it was for a meeting. Sure, we'd be invited to his house from time to time for dinners or a party, but once again, it was usually only two of us at the most that would attend. Something in all our lives had changed creating that bit of a void and it needed to be filled. We missed having Brian at the table. Let's bring him around.
It didn't make things any better. It often was just Brian asking, “So, how is everybody doing?”
“Fine.”
“How are the wives?”
“They're fine too.”
“So, how was your holiday?”
“It was fine.”
“Well, where did you go?”
“To this place by the seashore.” And so on. We all tried, we really did but it was so forced and awkward. Brian sort of made us feel even worse about it when he stated while putting butter on a piece of bread, “Well, I'm glad to see you all getting together like this. It's rather nice, isn't it?” Now in hindsight, I wonder what pills he was on.
One time Ringo livened things up a bit by bringing us all these weird lollipops made from Tequila with the worm encased inside of them. He bought them in a souvenir shop on one of his travels. We all laughed as we looked at them and realized what they were. That was funny but then once it was over, the conversation sort of disintegrated. I think this time I could put my finger on it. We were still feeling forced together, like how we felt when we were crammed in those hotel rooms trying to make the best of the situation by playing cards and having parties.
None of us had been able to yet throw off those invisible chains that had surrounded us mentally.
I do remember one of the last times we forced those dinners to happen before we all just never tried to get together with the other four again on some pretense of it being just what we should be doing.
We were in some very elegant spot in London. I remember rose colored carpeting and wall paper. The place was extremely small so it was very hard to get in but we used our Beatle Powers to get ourselves a table. Most of the other clientele were the very rich and upper crest of London. The Swinging Hip were just starting to arrive at this point.
John was very pleased to discover they made milkshakes. He loved those.
“And I bet it's the good stuff made with real milk and not that fake plastic-tasting stuff they've been serving at other places lately,” He stated when he read the menu.
These turned out to not be your ordinary milkshakes either. They had options of alcohol added to them along with nuts and various whipped cream toppings. And from the looks of the various deserts displayed on the tray, it wasn't just a spray of whipped cream either. It often had liquid chocolate drizzled over it and was sprinkled with chopped nuts.
John couldn't make up his mind. “Should I have the one with the vodka or the one with the brandy?” He kept asking himself. Finally he made a decision and when he ordered it, he asked the waiter, “How large can it come? Because I want the biggest one. A monstrous size. If you don't have such a size, invent one please.”
The waiter surprised him by bringing out the elegant drink in it's shapely tall glass topped with the pretty cream, chocolate syrup, nuts and even a cherry, but along with that he was carrying a large steel cup. It was the cup from the mixing machine that had been used to make the drink. It was full of more milkshake.
“We don't have anything bigger then this and you can keep adding more of it into your glass as you like,” the waiter explained to John. John was quite happy. His face was like a kid's at Christmas. He immediately dove in with his spoon tasting the funny cream confection on top of the glass while slurping loudly on his straw exclaiming, “You can really taste the booze but most of it is in the bottom.”
Once we all had drinks, it was time to order our food and that's when things got boring again. Conversation stilted and a little bit awkward. Nothing really being said. John kept on playing with his spoon and straw keeping himself occupied so I doubt he noticed it happening this time. We've never been like that before around each other socially. Why did it happen to us all of a sudden once the touring was gone from our lives?
Being older now, I guess those were the first moments when we all were growing up in our own way
and starting to spread parts of ourselves away from the others. I'm not sure if they all would agree with that and I'm not sure if it's even true, but it makes sense sometimes when I think about it.
Once our food came, we all tucked in and nothing more was heard but the sound of our forks and chewing. Except for John. I think all that booze was beginning to hit him but he didn't really have that much and was in the charming personality he got when he only kept the alcohol down to just a little bit. He kept sort of leaning back balancing his chair with his feet underneath the table while he smiled warmly at everybody. He often got like that and didn't care when the more stuffy patrons seemed to disdain such behavior. I bet he actually got a kick out of that. However, when he was done relaxing and ready to eat, he seemed to be having some trouble getting his chair just right to the table on that carpeted floor. He would take a bite of his sausage and while he was chewing, grip the edge of table while trying to scoot himself closer. It seemed to be giving him a bit of a problem.
Then it happened. It was so quick I'm not exactly sure what all it involved. All's I know is John suddenly was going to fall backwards and it was evident there was no saving him. He reached out to grab something and grasped that large metal cup full of his milkshake and the edge of his plate.
I only know I saw a sausage go flying across the room and a huge wave of white pour out of that cup all over John as he fell to the floor.
An ultrasonic sounding of, “Shhhhhhiiiiiiiitttttt!!!!!” echoed across the tiny restaurant and then John realized what he just did. That he yelled out a horrible word in a fancy establishment. A look of embarrassment creeped over his face from where he lay there on the floor and he suddenly shouted out equally loud, “Sssssooooorrrrrryyyyyy!!!!!!”
Immediately a member of the waitstaff appeared asking, “For the milkshake or the swearing.”
“Booootttthhhh!!!” John screamed in equal volume once again.
None of us could control our laughter. We all were as shocked as everyone else but for some reason, everyone clapped. I'm not sure why unless it's the same tradition that makes people applaud when a member of the waitstaff breaks some dishes.
John was helped up and escorted to the Men's room where he cleaned himself up. That same staff had the spilled milkshake quickly cleaned up as well. I was impressed with how fast they worked. I do remember chuckling to myself seeing in the middle of that fancy place, lying right there on the pink plus carpeting, one lone greasy sausage that had flown off of John's plate during his little mishap. It looked pretty gross lying there on the floor until a member of the waitstaff picked it up and took it away.
John was still in a good amiable mood when he came back to the table to finish his meal though he did complain, “I smell like milk now. Isn't it awful? Sorry about all of that.”
We never did go out to dinner as a group ever again after that. No one ever brought it up again either until making the Sgt Pepper album got underway. For some reason, once we all got back to work again, talking with each other seemed to become more natural. I can't explain why. I just noticed it when we had a meeting at my house because it was so close to the studio and everyone seemed relaxed and in good spirits.
“This certainly isn't one of those dinners we tried,” I commented being the first one to ever bring any of it up.
“Wasn't that awful?” Ringo chimed in. “What was up with that?”
None of us ever could figure it out since we rarely felt that way with each other. But it happened and thankfully now seemed only a memory.
Table for Four
We used to go to dinner, just the four of us. We felt it was some sort of obligation though I'm not sure to whom. Ourselves probably.
It was something that started after we stopped touring. That was an adjustment for all of us. Suddenly parts of our lives were open that used to be taken up by that whirlwind of traveling to different concert halls around the world. There was a void in each of our lives that needed to be filled even if we were grateful to finally have that void.
Somehow, it was pointed out by one of us, that we only got together for meetings. Even the studio and all the extra long hours we started working in there wouldn't guarantee that all four of us would show up. Someone was often out to lunch or showing up later because he knew he wouldn't be needed for a while. Meetings, often at my house or Ringo's was when we four all met.
Sure, I saw John a lot during that time even socially. I knew that John and George went out quite a bit with the wives and we'd often vacation in pairs as well. But somewhere somehow, someone pointed out how the four of us never ate together anymore or did anything together.
I guess in hindsight it was because we were no longer crammed into hotel rooms together or huddled in dressing rooms unable to go out for food so our dinners had to be brought to us and we were forced to eat sitting at our dressing tables. Or some of that fun we had when the hotel would convert a spare room into a dining room for us.
“Well, don't you think we should maybe be going out to dinner or something?” I think it was Ringo who finally proposed that idea and it didn't seem like a bad one. We all agreed to it.
Only it didn't work in practice. It actually felt awkward. Like we were forcing something unnatural upon ourselves. The conversations weren't sparkling or witty or anything. “How you doing?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“How's the wife?”
“She's fine too.” Nothing really much more then that. We often ate in silence and we all felt that wasn't right. Beatles were supposed to be bantering and jovial when they got together. What was happening to us?
Now in hindsight we realize that quite a lot of that time we spent together on tours was with the telly on and we were always watching it together. Sitting there in the middle of an elegant restaurant in the heart of London with no screen of moving pictures to stare at, we really were at a loss.
To be honest, we all felt this pressure on us to socialize more with each other during this period of our lives. It was ironic since the public didn't know we had finally stopped touring. No announcement was made or anything so that pressure had to be self-inflicted and I believe it was. I'm not sure why but we all were doing it to ourselves and each other.
We tried to break up the prevailing mood a couple of times by inviting Brian with us. Once again, after the touring stopped, he wasn't around all four of us either unless it was for a meeting. Sure, we'd be invited to his house from time to time for dinners or a party, but once again, it was usually only two of us at the most that would attend. Something in all our lives had changed creating that bit of a void and it needed to be filled. We missed having Brian at the table. Let's bring him around.
It didn't make things any better. It often was just Brian asking, “So, how is everybody doing?”
“Fine.”
“How are the wives?”
“They're fine too.”
“So, how was your holiday?”
“It was fine.”
“Well, where did you go?”
“To this place by the seashore.” And so on. We all tried, we really did but it was so forced and awkward. Brian sort of made us feel even worse about it when he stated while putting butter on a piece of bread, “Well, I'm glad to see you all getting together like this. It's rather nice, isn't it?” Now in hindsight, I wonder what pills he was on.
One time Ringo livened things up a bit by bringing us all these weird lollipops made from Tequila with the worm encased inside of them. He bought them in a souvenir shop on one of his travels. We all laughed as we looked at them and realized what they were. That was funny but then once it was over, the conversation sort of disintegrated. I think this time I could put my finger on it. We were still feeling forced together, like how we felt when we were crammed in those hotel rooms trying to make the best of the situation by playing cards and having parties.
None of us had been able to yet throw off those invisible chains that had surrounded us mentally.
I do remember one of the last times we forced those dinners to happen before we all just never tried to get together with the other four again on some pretense of it being just what we should be doing.
We were in some very elegant spot in London. I remember rose colored carpeting and wall paper. The place was extremely small so it was very hard to get in but we used our Beatle Powers to get ourselves a table. Most of the other clientele were the very rich and upper crest of London. The Swinging Hip were just starting to arrive at this point.
John was very pleased to discover they made milkshakes. He loved those.
“And I bet it's the good stuff made with real milk and not that fake plastic-tasting stuff they've been serving at other places lately,” He stated when he read the menu.
These turned out to not be your ordinary milkshakes either. They had options of alcohol added to them along with nuts and various whipped cream toppings. And from the looks of the various deserts displayed on the tray, it wasn't just a spray of whipped cream either. It often had liquid chocolate drizzled over it and was sprinkled with chopped nuts.
John couldn't make up his mind. “Should I have the one with the vodka or the one with the brandy?” He kept asking himself. Finally he made a decision and when he ordered it, he asked the waiter, “How large can it come? Because I want the biggest one. A monstrous size. If you don't have such a size, invent one please.”
The waiter surprised him by bringing out the elegant drink in it's shapely tall glass topped with the pretty cream, chocolate syrup, nuts and even a cherry, but along with that he was carrying a large steel cup. It was the cup from the mixing machine that had been used to make the drink. It was full of more milkshake.
“We don't have anything bigger then this and you can keep adding more of it into your glass as you like,” the waiter explained to John. John was quite happy. His face was like a kid's at Christmas. He immediately dove in with his spoon tasting the funny cream confection on top of the glass while slurping loudly on his straw exclaiming, “You can really taste the booze but most of it is in the bottom.”
Once we all had drinks, it was time to order our food and that's when things got boring again. Conversation stilted and a little bit awkward. Nothing really being said. John kept on playing with his spoon and straw keeping himself occupied so I doubt he noticed it happening this time. We've never been like that before around each other socially. Why did it happen to us all of a sudden once the touring was gone from our lives?
Being older now, I guess those were the first moments when we all were growing up in our own way
and starting to spread parts of ourselves away from the others. I'm not sure if they all would agree with that and I'm not sure if it's even true, but it makes sense sometimes when I think about it.
Once our food came, we all tucked in and nothing more was heard but the sound of our forks and chewing. Except for John. I think all that booze was beginning to hit him but he didn't really have that much and was in the charming personality he got when he only kept the alcohol down to just a little bit. He kept sort of leaning back balancing his chair with his feet underneath the table while he smiled warmly at everybody. He often got like that and didn't care when the more stuffy patrons seemed to disdain such behavior. I bet he actually got a kick out of that. However, when he was done relaxing and ready to eat, he seemed to be having some trouble getting his chair just right to the table on that carpeted floor. He would take a bite of his sausage and while he was chewing, grip the edge of table while trying to scoot himself closer. It seemed to be giving him a bit of a problem.
Then it happened. It was so quick I'm not exactly sure what all it involved. All's I know is John suddenly was going to fall backwards and it was evident there was no saving him. He reached out to grab something and grasped that large metal cup full of his milkshake and the edge of his plate.
I only know I saw a sausage go flying across the room and a huge wave of white pour out of that cup all over John as he fell to the floor.
An ultrasonic sounding of, “Shhhhhhiiiiiiiitttttt!!!!!” echoed across the tiny restaurant and then John realized what he just did. That he yelled out a horrible word in a fancy establishment. A look of embarrassment creeped over his face from where he lay there on the floor and he suddenly shouted out equally loud, “Sssssooooorrrrrryyyyyy!!!!!!”
Immediately a member of the waitstaff appeared asking, “For the milkshake or the swearing.”
“Booootttthhhh!!!” John screamed in equal volume once again.
None of us could control our laughter. We all were as shocked as everyone else but for some reason, everyone clapped. I'm not sure why unless it's the same tradition that makes people applaud when a member of the waitstaff breaks some dishes.
John was helped up and escorted to the Men's room where he cleaned himself up. That same staff had the spilled milkshake quickly cleaned up as well. I was impressed with how fast they worked. I do remember chuckling to myself seeing in the middle of that fancy place, lying right there on the pink plus carpeting, one lone greasy sausage that had flown off of John's plate during his little mishap. It looked pretty gross lying there on the floor until a member of the waitstaff picked it up and took it away.
John was still in a good amiable mood when he came back to the table to finish his meal though he did complain, “I smell like milk now. Isn't it awful? Sorry about all of that.”
We never did go out to dinner as a group ever again after that. No one ever brought it up again either until making the Sgt Pepper album got underway. For some reason, once we all got back to work again, talking with each other seemed to become more natural. I can't explain why. I just noticed it when we had a meeting at my house because it was so close to the studio and everyone seemed relaxed and in good spirits.
“This certainly isn't one of those dinners we tried,” I commented being the first one to ever bring any of it up.
“Wasn't that awful?” Ringo chimed in. “What was up with that?”
None of us ever could figure it out since we rarely felt that way with each other. But it happened and thankfully now seemed only a memory.