My 17th Birthday

For my 17th birthday, Jimmy took me to the Shoreham Hotel in Washington to have dinner and to see Petula Clark perform. It was a fantastic evening. The hotel was beautiful; the dining room was lavishly decorated; the waiters were splendid in their black and white attire; and we were probably the youngest ones there. Everyone else who had come to hear Petula Clark was older and the women were wearing their best jewelry and their fur coats. I had on my camel-colored wool coat with the raccoon fur collar. It was brand new and I loved it.

We were ushered into the dining room and shown to our table-for-two. I was so excited! Imagine - I was going to hear Petula Clark IN PERSON! Amazing.

We ordered our steak dinners with salad and baked potato. We even dared to order Manhattans! Wow! No one even asked for ID. I was only 17 and I was going to drink a Manhattan! My first sip of my first illegal drink - yuck! It was terrible. What a nasty taste. I preferred a soft drink. Jimmy drank my Manhattan. He didn't even mind! Imagine that!

The show Petula Clark put on was wonderful. We knew all the words to her songs, but it was fantastic just to hear her in person. To sit there and know that if I wanted to, I probably could reach out and touch her. I knew the evening would soon be over, but just for those few hours, I was in heaven.

After Jimmy paid the bill, he was left with about $2. (Remember, he was just a high school senior taking his girl out for her birthday. We were about 70 miles from home, too.) We walked out to the opulent lobby to retrieve our coats when from behind, we heard our waiter calling out to him. "Sir, Sir" he called. "You forgot my tip!" All around us, people stopped and stared at us. People who were putting on overcoats and fur coats, people who were older and had jobs and paychecks, people who were decked out in jewelry.

Our faces were beet red. If the floor had opened up and swallowed us, it would have been a blessing. With as much grace as he could muster up, Jimmy shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out the (less than) $2 (in change) and handed it to the waiter. We continued to put on our coats and calmly walked out of the beautiful Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C.

It was a birthday I'll never forget. It was lovely.