it takes some gall to just start bag-piping in the middle of my favorite coffee shop...

So, I think I've stumbled upon a new way to generate interest in these little updates.

Include others in my stories and such. Everyone likes to hear stories with themselves in them, right? So I'll try my best to share my own personal experiences that involve others as well. Here's one for ya as I dive into my Sugar Free Chocolate Americano w/Cold Soy. Thanks, Tully's.

Anyone that has ever read anything I've ever written knows that the Forza Coffee Shop in downtown Puyallup is kinda my little haven of rest when I'm in town. Allow me to explain why. Let me start off by saying that I honestly don't have much allegiance to Forza as a brand per se. Don't get me wrong, they seem cool but it's not like I'd be super amped if I ran into a Forza down here in Vancouver. I had a terrible experience at one in Kent and have kinda been soured on them since.

That being said, this one here....

Run by this guy here....


is an absolute gem of a place to be. It's like the social hub of the Puyallup Valley. No other place that I've been to seems to care more about their customers and care more about making your Forza experience a positive one. I'm sure I'm biased because I know most of, if not all the staff but I think that the fact that this place never seems to be dead probably speaks for itself.

Anyway, I spent a good deal of time there the weekend of March 14th and 15th which just so happened to be the weekend before St. Patty's day. I figured that there'd be a lot of green everywhere but I didn't really consider it anything that would affect my weekend. That was my first mistake. I should've known when myself and Katie Nestor, whom I was having coffee with, looked outside and saw several Irish Wolfhounds, green tents being set up and, just outside our door, approximately 11 Pipers Piping. And here I was thinking that the 12 Days Of Christmas was just a bunch of obscure numerical Biblical parallels. As U2 has taught us, never, EVER underestimate the Irish.

It didn't start out obnoxious. Very few things ever do. Myself and Katie wrapped up our coffee and I actually had to jet out to Tacoma for a few errands so I left with no incident outside of the norm. I finish up my to-do list and I get a hold of George Holcombe, a buddy of mine from my old church. He and I hadn't had a good, sit-down chat in quite literally years so I text him and we arrange it. And where do we arrange it? Forza, of course. No brainer, right? I come in, kill some time until he gets there and then he and I sit down fully anticipating the idea of catching up. He and I go back to about 1993 or so and we had plenty to catch up on. Here's where things get interesting.

If this story was a roller-coaster, this is EASILY the peak right before the dive. We embark on chatting and in walks The Irish War Band. That's not their real name, I'm sure, but that's what I'm going to refer to them as. It's a gentleman about 40, a young girl who was presumably his daughter and a woman on crutches who wasn't playing pipes but seemed to be associated with The Irish War Band. The three of them are dressed up like they're ready for battle and have multiple sets of bagpipes on their person. My first thoughts are "That's nice, they're taking a break from their piping and are grabbing some coffee. That's awesome. Good for them." At this point, I'm in my "Visiting Home" mode so I was kinda loving anything and everything. That mode was quickly changed by The Irish War Band.

The Irish War Band then puts down one set of pipes on the table and then starts fiddling around with their smaller ones, playing sporadic notes and such. My thought at this point was,"Hmm, it's almost like they're warming up for playing. That's kinda rude to warm up in such a public place indoors. Eh well, I'm home for the weekend so I love anything and everything".

It's at this point that the gentleman in The Irish War Band announces loudly and publicly that they're going to be playing some songs for us and will be selling CD's. They launch into what must be some sort of tune from ancient Irish lore and everyone kinda starts looking at each other like,"Um, why would Forza schedule something like this?" It was the same reaction you'd get if someone walked in and made some sort of huge, embarassing, awkward spectacle. Like if some dude in his 50's walked in with acid-washed SHORT shorts and a pink tank top singing Whitesnake tunes at the top of his lungs. Kinda the "This isn't really happening, right?" reaction. I must admit, I was thinking the exact same thing. Here's the kicker. They WEREN'T scheduled! They, in their wisdom, just figured that it was a good idea to just drop on by and start playing, all the while hawking their merch.

Now I could stop it right here and it would be a moderately funny story but it actually gets better.

In between songs, the honorary member of The Irish War Band (the woman on crutches) informs me that these pipes they're playing aren't actually the loud pipes. The loud pipes are the ones on table next to them. This gives me the feeling of "Well, I guess it be worse." I should've knocked on wood at that point.

After they wrap up their third song or so, the gentleman in The Irish War Band raises his voice and tells everyone in the shop that they should get their drink orders in now because they're switching to the loud pipes. It's at this point that any hilarity or humor that I found at the time is completely gone. They've officially gone from "probably disrupting business" to "officially disrupting business because no one can order their freaking drink". I'm at the point where I can't hear my buddy talking to me so I go up to Matia Petrovich, who is working behind the counter, and we devise a plan. After they wrap up whatever battle anthem they were working on, she was going to clap loudly and nicely and say,"Hey guys, thanks for coming!!" I feel that it's a brilliant idea given the fact they the gentleman in The Irish War Band has, in his sock, a knife with a handle made out of bone. No, seriously. Presumably the bone of some poor critter that he either wrestled and killed with his bare hands, bludgeoned with his big pipes or played so freakin' loudly that the animal finally gave in from mental exhaustion and passed on from this world. They finish, she does and, not quite getting the message, they ask the shop if they want an encore. I'm not making this up. He yells out "Who wants one more??" Luckily for me, some jerk in the corner speaks up and says "MAKE IT SHORT!". On a slightly related note, the jerk in the corner was me.

Anyway, after 2 more magical minutes of enchantment, they finish, say thank you to what can only be described as a mortified audience and then bow out. Just in time for me to have to go to sound check at church. Yes, that's right, they took up the vast majority of my time with Mr. Holcombe. You can't make this stuff up.

I apologize if this blog somehow, someway gets back to The Irish War Band. If you know them, I'm sorry. I really am. But seriously. In the middle of a crowded coffee shop? In the middle of the day? I can look back on it now and say that it was kinda hilarious. At the time, though....

In any event, I promised George and Katie that they'd be involved in a blog about the events of last weekend and here it is. Hope this finds you all doing well. More to come later, I'm sure. Take care, have a wonderful day. Will be in town the weekend of the 4th for a wedding so hope to see you all.

Dominic

Edit: I went back and proofread it and found out that I actually had a typo involving their and they're. Unbelievable. I'm usually such a stickler when it comes to this. Sorry, Benj. I'll do better next time.