I am a fan of the frankly gaudy, and so am in love with a certain local Chinese restaurant–not as much for its food as for its decor. There are enormous crystal chandeliers everywhere, lots of shiny red stuff, huge aquariums full of enormous golden fish. The staff sports shiny clothes and barks at each other in staccato Chinese, which sounds exotic and slightly stern to my American ears.

I treasure what I think of as the small moments of theater that happen in my real life, and two of them occurred at The Dragon Palace–both at holiday times. One took place around Christmas. There was a huge party eating at one long table in the back of the restaurant. They were all well-dressed, elegant in their bearings, a gathering out of a film. At their exact center, right under a directional light, sat a golden child of about four adorned with a gigantic red velvet tam o’shanter set at a jaunty angle. The rest of the party seemed to revolve around her, and  Charlie and I immediately dubbed her La Petite Dauphine. We have carried our shared vision of Her Royal Highness with us ever since.

The other theater moment happened on Easter Sunday. The usual music at the Dragon Palace is a kind of oriental musac. I was at the buffet, grazing happily, admiring other folks Easter togs, when all of a sudden Bing Crosby burst out singing “White Christmas.” He was speedily followed by Karen Carpenter singing another Christmas ditty. I remember looking up and catching the eye of the woman across the buffet from me and thinking that she looked as baffled as I felt.  Charlie, however, figured it out. The management knew this was an important Christian holiday, so they were seeking to honor it with Christian holiday music.

Such theater moments are a gloriously regular part of my sobriety. I’ve become both   more aware of my surroundings and able to enjoy them with sobriety. Haven’t you had the same experience?