So when last I left off Laura Caldwell and I (along with a restaurant full of people) were being directed down a flight of stairs and into a basement to avoid a possible tornado.

Despite the yellow cinder block walls and the florescent lighting, things were pretty much the same in the basement as they were topside. Servers were kind enough to walk by, refreshing cocktails, and people with trays of passed appetizers were on a 30 second rotation. It was like being at a wedding reception, if it were being held in Hitler's bunker.

Throughout it all Laura was nothing but nice - for someone who wanted a beer because of a bad review, she was awfully friendly. She asked about my real job ("If I only wrote book reviews," I told her, "I'd be living in a ramen noodles box."), she complimented my shoes (I was just wearing Chucks, but I'll take what I can get), and evidently she's even got her assistant reading my blog now (she told me: "My assistant wanted me to ask you the details on the girlfriend.")

After about a half hour we were all allowed to head upstairs and the rest of the night went off without a hitch; more drinks and more of Perennial's wonderful appetizers that we had gotten to sample downstairs, all under more flattering lighting.

When it was time to head out I walked Laura a few blocks. "I've got a friend who's feeling down and drinking bourbon. I've got to pick up a bottle of white wine if I want to be okay tomorrow." We stopped into a supermarket in search of wine and something that would cheer up her friend. "Ooh, bring some balloons," I said grabbing a bag of pink ones off a shelf. "Good idea," she seconded. "Oh, and a candle." We went to the checkout with our loot, surely looking odd buying those three items at 10:30 at night.

The next morning I got a text: "Balloons and candle were a big hit. I'm thankful for the slight wine hangover and not the whackin' bourbon variety."

Balloons and candles make everything better. That's a Chinese proverb, isn't it?