Sorry for the misleading title. I didn’t go on a date with Bill. My wife and I went on a date to see Bill.
Merriem and I are children of the 80’s. We rocked life with parachute pants, cinnamon toothpicks, and The Cosby Show. We felt like we were part of the Huxtable family, in a bizarro Diff’rent Strokes sort of way.
That’s why – way back in November – I stalked Ticketmaster one Friday morning to snatch up a couple of seats for Mr. Cosby’s concert at the new Durham Performing Arts Center. They were to be a Valentine’s Day gift for Merriem that she just happened to get to use at the end of March. (Hey, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.)
Watching BC walk on stage at the beginning of the night was a bit surreal. He’s a little older, a little grayer, and maybe the only guy I know who can get away with performing in sweats and Crocs. For two hours and ten minutes, he just sat on a chair and told stories. You got the feeling you were sitting in his living room just having a conversation (granted, a conversation that you just listened to and laughed at).
Cos is the consummate entertainer, a gentleman if there ever was one. Even in dealing with the occasional mouthy audience member, he did it in such a way that even the offender couldn’t help but laugh at himself.
Date nights with my wife are always awesome, but this one is one for the books. Thanks Bill.
(Go ahead, take a Monday morning break and watch this classic Cosby routine which was partial inspiration for this almost totally true post. I got to see it live last night.)